Either Or
by jenwin23
Summary: They were fighting again. Disagreeing on what the 100 should do. Again. They had become the de facto co-leaders of their ragtag band of misfits, and striking a balance between her idealism and his pragmatism was never easy. Striking a balance between what they needed for themselves and what the camp needed would require careful negotiation. Clark/Bellamy. Bellark.
1. Chapter 1

The 100/Bellamy and Clarke

Either/Or

Set post S01E8, cannon until then, whatever the hell I want after that point.

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**Chapter 1**

They were fighting again. Disagreeing on what the 100 should do. Again. They had become the de facto co-leaders of their ragtag band of misfits, and striking a balance between her idealism and his pragmatism was never easy. She wanted peace through consensus. He wanted safety through strength.

Bellamy was adamant that they take an aggressive course, the only course in his opinion, the hard line which was contrary to his "whatever the hell we want" approach when they'd first landed: His word was law. Whatever he said went. Anything he hadn't made a decree on yet, was up for the banished teens to decide. Clarke wanted to involve the group in the decision making, wanted to appeal to their better selves, their higher consciousness. She wanted to involve them, share information, build a community. She wanted them to make the right choices for themselves, together, proving that people were good, and that they deserved to live.

Despite recently having arrived at a working relationship that actually seemed to work for them and for the group, they still approached every problem like it was an either/or situation. Bellamy's plan or Clarke's plan. Fear or hope.

Neither wanted to recreate the class dynamics that had existed on the Ark. But there were jobs that needed to be done, and Bellamy's approach of assigning everyone to one or two tasks based on physical ability then letting them run wild the rest of the time was not going to get them prepared to survive the winter.

Clarke understood that there were some jobs no one wanted to do, and not everyone was suited for every job. But the work still needed to be done, and they needed more than a rickety wall and some nuts to survive.

They had been sent to the ground with an impossible task, to prove that Earth was survivable 97 years after a nuclear holocaust with nearly no supplies. Improbably, most of them were still alive. They'd cobbled together skills, food, shelter, and they'd survived. But now the true challenge had revealed itself, how to build a society that worked to keep them safe and together for the long run.

They weren't sure what was happening on the Ark, weren't stupid enough to believe that they could trust the little they were being told. The simple reality was that the plan to send down more drop ships, more of the Ark's population in two months, if the 100 survived, had been delayed. Possibly indefinitely. They were on their own, and maybe if they could figure out a plan being on their own gave them a better chance of survival.

But not if they didn't come up with a strategy that they could both agree on and that the group would accept.

She recalled something from school in years past, democracy. A government of the people, by the people and for the people. It wasn't what they'd grown up with on the Ark, that had been a more military style command, with some semblance of choice and voting. Unfortunately the 100 were young, and youth often meant stupid. And on top of that they were criminals who had been locked up in close confines for months or even years. Except for Octavia and Clarke they'd all broken the laws and been caught. Clarke had hoped that once they let off some pent up steam and aggression, that they'd start to understand that their lives depended on their ability to work as a team and be smart about it, but only Bellamy's strength and charisma had keep them together. Kept them alive.

It probably helped that he was older than the rest of them. Bellamy had five years on the oldest of them.

"Bellamy!" she yelled, cutting off his tirade. "We can't-"

"We can, we have the guns, we have the power now."

"There are less than a hundred of us, we have no idea how many of them there are, and frankly we don't know that they all want us dead, we might be able to make a truce-" she argued in her husky voice.

"Are you kidding? How much more evidence do you need that they want us dead?" he yelled. "They took Octavia! Killed three of us," he said loudly, his voice rough with emotions. He had taken control as soon as they'd crash landed on the ground, and each death weighed on his shoulders.

"We haven't even been back on the ground for three weeks and you want to start another war?" She asked incredulously.

He crowded her, towering over her making up tilt her head to look up at him, but she didn't cower. She was brave, never shrank away from him. Maybe he didn't scare her, though he suspected that initially he had, and it was her inner core of strength that had allowed her to stand up to him, oppose him, and as time had passed any fear she had of him had faded to nothing.

"I want us to survive for another three weeks, three months, three years, Clarke."

"Not like this, I won't let you-"

"I don't take orders from you, Princess," he sneered.

"What is wrong with you? I know you're better than this!"

He dipped his head to stare into her eyes, wanting her to understand that it wasn't negotiable; he would do whatever was necessary to keep his sister, all of them, alive. "You don't know me, not really, but understand this, I will do whatever it takes to keep my sister, my people, safe!"

"And what about the rest of us?"

He glared at her, his jaw tightening. Clarke was one of his people, whether she realized it or not. She was an asset, even with all her 'we're better than that, let's all get along and work together' delusions. And he needed her. She was strong, smart, understood the council and the Ark politics in a way he never would, and she was growing more and more comfortable each day in her role as their healer. He needed someone who wasn't afraid to disagree with him and not in his sister's reactionary way, but a measured, rational response. He was making it up as he went along, and he didn't want to make mistakes that would cost lives, and Clarke could play the role of his sounding board, his opposite.

"You don't get to make decisions with their lives."

"Every decision we make is a decision about life or death. You know that," he scoffed at her idealism. "Everyone can make their own decisions, to follow me or to die. There's your democracy."

"I know you're not a killer, but if you attack the grounders, you will be killing people, killing us. Why are you acting like this?"

"I am what I need to be, and I'll do whatever needs to be done."

"You don't make decisions for the rest of us. You may have put yourself in charge, but I don't have to listen to you, no one does. We let them decide for themselves with all the facts," she insisted.

She turned to walk away, moving to the heavy metal door of the drop ship that was their most secure shelter and served as their supply storage, med bay, and headquarters.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"And how did that work out for you last time? You told them that someone in camp killed Wells, and they turned into a blood thirsty mob. Is that who you want making decisions? The mob?"

She glared at him stubbornly, raising her chin in silent opposition.

His eyes ran over her face, taking in the now familiar delicate rounded features and blue eyes that still shone with innocence no matter what she'd experienced in her short life. He saw her withdraw, his words reminding her that her choices risked lives too.

"I was wrong before, I was emotional, I hated Wells when I thought he'd betrayed me, and I was horrible to him, and just when I figured out that he had just been trying to protect me..." she choked up, remembering how he'd accepted her rudeness and anger when all along he'd just been covering up her mother's betrayal, "and then he was killed. I needed to know."

"You wanted to blame someone," he countered. "You still think there is a right and a wrong in every situation. Black and white. There isn't, there's only shades of grey."

"Exactly. Apply that to the grounders. They can't all be bad. We need to learn to co-exist."

He shook his head. "We take the fight to them, we show them that we're not easy targets. Not anymore. And if a few "good" grounders die in the process, so be it."

"You think they'll be the only ones to die? You're not that stupid. How many of us are you willing to sacrifice?" She yanked her arm free and marched towards the door again, intent on her own course of action.

Bellamy followed her, grabbling her arm and spinning her around he crashed his mouth down on hers. Maybe he couldn't convince her, but he could delay her. Clarke got worked up, but she usually calmed down enough to let her rational side get traction again and that was when she was most open to compromise.

Her mouth moved under his, a sound of protest escaping her pink lips and he took advantage of it to sweep his tongue into her mouth.

Clarke's hands fluttered against his shoulders. She'd been pushing him away, but as he hauled her onto her toes and against his chest they fisted in the black cotton of his shirt.

He let himself get lost in the taste of her, the feel of her mouth under his and decided that kissing her was a much better use of his time than arguing with her.

He stepped forward, pushing her against the cold metal wall of the drop ship. His hands dropped to her waist, then skimmed down along the curve of her hips. Curling them around the back of her thighs he lifted her up and pressed closer, grunting his approval when she wrapped her legs around him.

He released her mouth, gasping in lungfuls of air, kissing a trail to her neck, satisfied with the pounding of her pulse he found there, proof that her heart was racing just as wildly as his.

But breaking the kiss was a mistake because she started to think again. Clarke fisted her hands in his messy dark hair, pulling his mouth away from her neck, but she didn't loosen her legs' grip on his waist. "What... are we doing?"

"Fighting."

"Oh." She smiled softly and he kissed her again, not wanting to actually start fighting again. It was inevitable, but not quite yet.

Their mouths melted together, and determined to take advantage of the situation while it lasted, Bellamy eased his hands under her shirt, his thumbs brushing against the underside of her generous breasts.

Clarke gasped at the contact, and Bellamy eased back, remembering that Clarke had been locked up when she was just 16, and had spent the last year in solitary confinement, since the chancellor had been intent on keeping the fact that the Ark was dying a secret from the populous, and locking up an innocent child had been an acceptable means to that end.

Bellamy wanted to kiss her again, keep touching her, fill his hands with her curves, but he'd bet his week's worth of rations that Clarke had been an innocent, goody two shoes until she'd been locked up, and her only experience with the opposite sex was whatever had happened with Finn since they'd been on the ground.

He eased back, his hands going back to her hips to support her then ease her down once she loosened her legs' grip on him.

"We shouldn't have done that," she said, not meeting his eyes as she tugged her clothing back into place.

"Why?"

His simple question drew her gaze back to his, but she didn't blush or stumble over her words. "It just complicates things."

"Not if we don't let it."

"We don't even like each other," she said, her voice a bit rough, a bit desperate.

"We respect each other."

She blinked, her mind obviously racing as she processed that.

He stepped back from her, needing the space to clear his own mind and let hers rest easy. "You want to build some grand society just in time for the Ark to come down and destroy it? Fine, waste your time, but I will keep us safe until that day comes, and then I will keep us safe from the Grounders and the Council."

She didn't argue that the Council wasn't a threat to them, she wasn't that naive. Not anymore. "Compromise?"

He stared at her, considering if there was any compromise to be made, then nodded, waiting for her proposal.

"We can elect representatives-"

"No," he categorically denied. "You and I make the decisions, and that's the way it stays. You can put people in charge of camp functions, decentralize some of the day to day responsibilities of running this place, make up teams to get things done, but they don't vote."

Clarke considered it, and nodded, it wasn't what she wanted, but it was a good first step. "And no raids."

"Clarke," he said, his tone dangerous, stepping towards her again threateningly, so used to using his physicality to make people rethink opposing him, but she wasn't afraid of him. He'd saved her life on multiple occasions, and she'd returned the favor. She disagreed with him as often as she agreed with him, but there was a baseline level of trust between them.

"We defend ourselves and we defend our camp, but we are not the aggressors. If you do, if you go out there looking for trouble, I will tell them everything and let the chips fall where they may."

Their gazes locked together, fierce brown against unyielding blue. Finally he nodded. "For now."

Clarke's stomach still felt uneasy, the emotion of the fight and the kiss making her tremble, but she tried to hide it. "Then we have a deal."

He nodded again, turning towards the only map they had, that was hanging on the wall. It was marked with a variety of additions, the locations of resources and dangers that they'd found in the territory around their camp.

"If the grounders come within our boundaries," he drew a circle around the camp that included the berry patch and the creek they'd been getting water from, "then we defend ourselves."

"I can accept that."

She walked to the door, spinning the hatch to open it. "Bellamy. I didn't mean that I don't like you... just that we don't-"

"I know, Clarke," he said as he met her gaze.

"So we're OK?"

"We're good."

She smiled hesitantly, but didn't argue or push for a clarification.

-The 100—

At the camp fire that night Bellamy stood by Clarke as she explained their plan after he'd told the surviving members of the 100 about their new defense plans and the boundaries they would hold.

"We'll take nominations for the following committee heads: food, water, medical, other supplies, shelter, fuel, exploration and supply gathering, and defense. In addition to whatever work detail you are assigned, we will all take turns on camp duties like food prep, sanitation and laundry. We'll rotate people through the groups, no one is locked in, no one is better than anyone else. Here we're all equals. But we have to work together to survive."

Bellamy nodded his approval. He'd been a lower cast on the Ark, Clarke the upper class, but neither wanted to replicate the class issues that had created such anger and disparities on the space station.

Clarke didn't ask if anyone had any objections, just sat back down on a log and looked into the fire as the teenagers began to talk, and in some cases argue about their new direction, but within 20 minutes most of the conversation had died down and several people had volunteered or been nominated for the leadership roles, some that had never really been in question – namely Clarke for medical and Miller for defense, albeit working closely under Bellamy, who they had agreed would not head up any committee but remain a leader at large.

Clarke wrote down the names of the nominated teens in her notebook, and looked up to see that Bellamy was watching her from where he stood with Miller and several of the others who would most likely be their core defense team. His gaze was warm and Clarke felt her stomach do another summersault and looked down.

Maybe they could work together. Clarke and Bellamy. The 100. Maybe they could survive. And maybe if they worked together and were smart they could hope for more than mere survival.

They had a loose societal structure, a common goal, and common enemies; civilizations had been founded on less.

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AN-I'm not looking to write for another fandom, but I'm enjoying the 100 and this came to me, so I thought I'd write it up. No plans to expand on this right now, but my muse could strike again.

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	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

Bellamy was standing just outside the large command tent made from the parachutes that had slowed the drop ship on its descent to Earth with 100 juvenile delinquents. He was looking up into the trees, but really he was looking at their new lookout "towers." They'd built four small platforms up in the trees surrounding their camp to give them a better vantage point to keep guard. One of the idiots that had been assigned to the newly created shelter committee, in charge of designing and building structures that would aid in their survival, had promptly fallen off and only saved himself from a broken back by grabbing onto a lower limb to break his fall.

Needless to say, Clarke had a new patient thankfully only with some splinters, bruises and abrasions, and a makeshift railing was installed on all four platforms. They hadn't heard or seen anything from the Grounders since the one who had taken Octavia had escaped, but Bellamy didn't hold out hope that it would last. But he would capitalize on the time to secure their camp site as much as possible.

He'd gone out earlier, joining one of the a scavenging crews who, in the past week, had found three bunkers and one intact stone basement under a pile of rotting wood that had obviously once been a house. If they could find a few more underground, hidden locations they'd have enough for all for them to fall back to in case the worst happened.

Whether the worst came from the Grounders, the radiation soaked planet, the Ark or the 100 themselves, Bellamy didn't bother to hazard a guess. Some happy shouts drew his attention and he turned his head to see a scavenging crew returning to camp. He shook his head. They were all afraid of the Grounders, but somehow they felt safe close to camp, and lost all their stealth and inhibitions as soon as they saw the wooden fence that offered up paltry protection.

They reentered camp, pulling the gate closed behind them, and one of the boys approached Bellamy while the rest took their bags, stuffed with what looked like textiles and some tools and containers to the supply tent for sorting.

"Hey Bellamy," Tim greeted.

"Bartlett." Bellamy looked him over. Tim seemed happy enough to help, but Bellamy wondered about him. Physically he was fairly non-descript: sandy brown hair, pale skin, average height and build. Atom had told him Tim Bartlett's crime, and yet the boy still refused to take off his transmitter bracelet from the Ark. "I found something you might be interested in."

"Oh?" The kid handed over a book, its pages yellowed with age, but he was right it was something Bellamy was interested in. He couldn't help but crack a smile at the title.

"I'll take it to-"

"No. I got it." Without another word, Bellamy turned to walk towards the drop ship.

Once inside, he ducked under a fabric wall that separated the main entrance from the medical bay. They'd kept it on the ground floor, since carrying injured people up the ladders was just stupid, but had tried to give some privacy to the patients and the ones taking care of them. People like Clarke and Octavia. Octavia also helped with repairing clothing, blankets and other textiles, but her experience helping their mother sew on the Ark and her brash attitude made her a good medical assistant, and if she kept it up Clarke thought she could be a good healer.

Octavia looked over at him, not bothering to smile. The siblings were being civil to each other, no more, no less. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," he denied, not explaining his presence, but Octavia followed his gaze to Clarke who was kneeling on the floor, sorting through a new batch of medical supplies the scavengers had brought back earlier that morning.

He moved closer to the blonde girl, who apparently didn't even notice his presence until Octavia cleared her throat loudly. Clarke glanced up, seeing him standing over her. "Oh. Hey."

Octavia arched one eyebrow and sighed audibly before leaving them alone. Clarke frowned watching the younger girl go. Sometimes it seemed that years rather than months separated the girls in age and maturity.

"Anything helpful in the supplies?"

"Yeah, some iodine, a few bandages, a splint, safety pins, two suture sets, spears, a scalpel and some extra blades and a stethoscope. Everything else is pretty much useless or disintegrated, but the pack is good, I should be able to assemble a travel med kit for day trips," Clarke relayed quickly. "We need more alcohol for use as an antiseptic, and bandages…"

"The team that just returned brought some textiles, we should be able to sort something out," he told her.

She nodded and began pushing the worthless supplies into a crate that they used as a trash container. "I could use your help getting our brewers to whip me up something strong and not that honey beer they've been making the last few days," she said with a hopeful smile, glancing up at him. He nodded his head and she knew he'd get her what she needed. She rocked back onto her heels and looked up at him. "Did you need something?"

"I brought you something," he said with an odd tone to his voice.

Clarke frowned, tilting her head in question. His tone was almost playful. "For me?" she teased back. "I didn't know we were exchanging gifts, I would have got you something. A twig. Maybe a rock."

Bellamy smirked at her, then moved his hand from behind his back revealing the book. Clarke surged to her feet, one of her hands pressing against his stomach for balance before she snatched the book from his hand. "The Survival Medicine Handbook," she read from the cover.

"A guide for when help is NOT on the way," he finished reading the title, amused derision in his voice.

She smiled up at him, amusement making her eyes sparkle. "Help is definitely not on the way. This is great. Thanks."

"No problem. You knowing more is better for all of us."

He watched her as she flipped through the pages quickly, but with a careful reverence. They'd found quite a few books in their recent explorations, but the paper was all old, delicate and yellowed. They had a library on the drop ship now, and even a librarian who wrote down all the titles and organized the books by topic every morning. Reading had become a favored camp activity with some of the teens gathering to listen as one read out loud.

"About that, I've been training the medical team, trying to teach them everything I know, but it's not enough time with their other duties. I want to train Octavia and maybe two others more intensively," she said earnestly, finally tearing her eyes from the book. His dark gaze was boring into her and she flushed. They'd been getting along, still butting heads over some decisions, but for the past few days they'd been, mostly, on the same page. And then there was the kiss neither had mentioned since the night it happened. "In case something happens to me, we need redundancy-"

"Nothing is going to happen to you," he interrupted.

"You don't know that," she said, shaking her head. "Anytime any of us leave camp we could be attacked, taken, killed. There could be diseases that we know nothing about and have no immunity to just waiting-"

"Nothing is going to happen to you," he said again, his tone not allowing for disagreement. "You're staying in camp, and –"

"I've been busy here, but I will leave camp again eventually, Bellamy, I need to gather herbs, medicinal plants-"

"That's what the teams are for," he insisted. "You tell them what to find and they go find it."

"We agreed, everyone takes some of the risk, everyone takes some of the undesirable work," she said with a frown. Bellamy had never treated her like she needed to be protected, not like he treated Octavia. He'd always acted like she was his equal and capable of making her own decisions, so she wasn't sure where his sudden bossy protectiveness was coming from.

"Like it or not, Princess, some people are more important than others. You know things that we don't, you can heal us better than anyone else here, that makes you more important."

"That's-"

"Not up for discussion. Who would have healed Jasper if you hadn't been here? Who would have saved Finn? None of us know how to set a bone or read the signs to see that it's poison. None of us knows how to assess a wound to see if it needs to be sutured, cauterized or left open to drain."

"That's why I want to step up the training."

"Then do it, but you're still not leaving camp. Your days of running around the woods are done, Princess."

She swallowed down a rude retort, trying to stay calm. "I don't like being called that."

"I call it like I see it, Princess." She glared at him, her jaw stuck out stubbornly. "But if you want…" he shrugged, "we could try some other nicknames."

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind, I'll stick with Princess."

"Whatever you say, Doc,"

She rolled her eyes again and looked skyward. "I am not a doctor."

"You're the closest thing we have to one, so my advice is to adjust to it, Blondie." He turned to leave, a smile lightening his usually dark features.

"Hey, they found the book and supplies in another bunker?" she asked, halting his departure.

"Yeah, that makes three, plus a basement and the military bunker we found, but that one is too far for it to work as an emergency fall back location, though it could be a secondary rally point."

She frowned, her expression thoughtful. "You're coming up with an evacuation plan?"

He shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea."

"It is," she agreed quickly, her gaze avid.

Given her interest, he stepped back towards her, letting her in on his plan. "I want to keep the locations secret. We'll assign people to a specific bunker, and that's the only one they'll know about."

"But the scavenging teams…" she questioned.

"Have been told to keep quiet. My guys and a few others will know all the locations, and we'll have a common rally point farther out, but just in case someone gets captured…"

"And tortured," she finished his thought, not shying away from the reality of the situation. He nodded in acknowledgement. "How many of us can fit in the habitable bunkers?"

"No more than 70, and that will be a tight fit. We need two or three more, depending on their size. If we don't find them in the next few days, we'll use the caves."

Clarke's eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. "There is another…" she stepped closer to him, standing close enough that she could feel the heat from his body and lowered her voice, "a bunker you don't know about. Finn found it… awhile ago. It's where we took Charlotte to hide."

She hadn't told him, hadn't told anyone but Raven about it. Clarke and Finn had wanted to keep it a secret hide-away in case things went bad in the camp and they needed to hide or hide someone.

Bellamy took her elbow and directed her to the back corner of the space. "No one knows about it but you and Finn?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and a swarm of butterflies take flight in her stomach.

"And Raven." She quickly described the bomb shelter, with its outdated supplies, couch, small kitchen and room to sleep four, trying to focus on the facts and not her distracting physical response to his proximity.

"Finn hasn't mentioned it," Bellamy said with a simmering resentment. Finn was the head of the scavenging committee, and had taught that team and the hunters on the food team his tracking skills.

Clarke looked down. When Finn had shown it to her, Clarke and Finn had been a team, and they hadn't trusted Bellamy. It was hard to believe that was only a few short weeks ago.

"Take me there?" He asked, and she appreciated that it was a question not a demand.

"Finn can-"

"You wanted out of camp, Princess. This is your opportunity."

She huffed out a sigh. "I'll get my stuff. And start working on a list of annoying nicknames for you."

He smirked at her.

—The 100—

At the bunker, Bellamy was impressed with just how hidden it was. He looked around considering.

"What are you thinking?"

"You want to know my thoughts now, Princess?" She glared at him with a sour expression. "I think we should keep it secret."

She scowled, Clarke didn't really like secrets. "No-"

"We're not really part of the group, are we?" He stated by way of a question and Clarke frowned, not following him.

"Of course we are, or at least, you are, you calling me Princess just reminds them that I'm not one of them."

"No, we're separate, it's natural I guess, we're in charge, we can't really be their friends," Bellamy mused, walking to the shelf of supplies and looking at the jars of spoiled food. "We'll need to stock the bunkers with basic food and water, first aid supplies if you can spare them."

Clarke blinked nodding absently, but her thoughts were on the truth of his earlier declaration. Besides Finn, Monty and Jasper, she hadn't really made any friends in the camp. There was Bellamy of course, and Octavia, but her relationship with both Blakes was complicated at best.

"Finn too. He's popular, but not much of a joiner. And Raven. We're separate from the rest."

"We can't leave them," Clarke said, and he knew she was building up to a speech on how they needed him (and her) and that they should all stick together.

"Finn was right. We keep this place secret," Bellamy said. "Promise me."

Clarke frowned. "Monty and Jasper too. And Octavia, of course."

"No, we don't tell them until we need to."

"That might be too late," she cautioned.

"Octavia is a wildcard, she has no discipline, no-"

"She lived under the floor for 16 years and spent the last year in lockup grieving for her mother. She's letting off steam, Bellamy," Clarke said compassionately. "You just need to give her time." She frowned and arched one eyebrow, her eyes meeting his. "And space. You need to give her space to figure out who she is now."

"She's my sister-"

"But she's not a child," Clarke interrupted. "See her for who she is now, give her room to grow, to explore. She'll always be your sister, but that's not all that she is, Bellamy. The tighter you hold the reigns the more she's going to fight you."

He didn't concede to her argument, but he didn't counter it either. Instead Bellamy looked around again and moved to the couch. Sitting down he took off his jacket and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" He ignored her question and continued to make himself comfortable, angling his body into the corner of the couch and pushing a pillow behind his head. "Bellamy, what-"

He didn't let her finish instead he just grabbed her arm and pulled her down into his lap when she moved close enough.

"What the hell are you doing!?" she exclaimed, pushing against him ineffectually, since his hands easily contained her, gripping her shoulders and pulling her into his chest.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a few hours of sleep," he said, and his quiet words stilled her struggles. "I don't sleep much, always having to be on guard, alert."

She wiggled until she was wedged between him and the back of the couch, her side resting on his chest, their legs parallel. "A nap?" she said disbelievingly.

"Just a nap, Clarke, unless you want it to be something more." He opened one eye to see a blush tint her cheeks.

Seeing his smug look she punched his chest lightly. "You're a jerk."

"Maybe. Now be quiet." He took her fisted hand in his and smoothed out her fingers lifting it to rest on the curve of his neck, forcing her to lie on him, her breasts flattening against his chest. His other arm snaked around her, curling around her waist.

Within minutes they were asleep, wrapped around each other, fully relaxed for the first time since they'd landed on Earth, hidden away from the dangers and responsibilities that didn't fade no matter the time of day or how tired they were.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Clarke was exhausted, but she didn't want to sleep. It was cold, not as cold as it might have been without the improvements to their camp, but still cold enough that she woke up whenever she pushed a hand, arm, foot or leg out from under the fur hide blanket that was her warmest covering, and a gift from Bellamy. She didn't want to get in bed yet, didn't want to get too comfortable and too warm to want to leave it again to see what was happening outside, so she didn't climb into bed despite the weariness that seemed to radiate from her bones.

Pulling on every layer of clothing she had, she tucked her hair under a knit cap and walked silently down the dark narrow hallway that ran almost the entire length of the new earthen dorm the camp had spent weeks building as the temperatures dropped more and more each day.

Winter had arrived, and with it bone chilling overnight temperatures, deluges of rain, and now, the first snowfall. Clarke had heard of snow, they all had in songs and books. They'd even seen it from space, but this was different.

Exiting the dorm she pulled the heavy canvas door covering closed behind her not wanting to let out the heat from the small smoldering fires inside. The remaining 100 who were not on duty elsewhere in the camp were nestled inside her dorm and two other similar structures, not warm but not freezing.

The idea for the bunkers had come from one of the girls who was assigned semi-permanently to the food team. Masaya Takada liked picking berries, gathering nuts and fruits. She found peace in the silence and the repetitive process, and enjoyed providing a necessary service to the camp. But she'd taken a book from the library that had described sustainable houses that stayed cool in the summer and warm in the winter through natural insulation and passive processes. She'd mulled over the idea until the day she'd come across the remnants of an old scrap yard with thousands of plastic and glass bottles along with metals, and tires.

Back at camp Masaya had come to Clarke, too afraid to go directly to Bellamy with her idea to construct earthen bunk houses with the bottles and tires. The dirt was already in abundant supply. Three weeks later the last of the dorms was completed. They were still heaping dirt as additional natural insulation around the edges of the buildings except for where they had used the glass bottles to form "windows" to let in light. The dorm that housed Bellamy, Clarke, Octavia, and most of the defense team looked more like a small hill now than a man-made structure, but it was warmer than the others, and the dirt moving went forward on the other two buildings.

Outside, Clarke tucked her hands into her pockets, the arm warmers she wore whenever she wasn't performing a medical procedure not enough to keep her hands warm. Walking to the drop ship she climbed up until she came out the hatch at the top, wanting a good view of the now rapidly falling white flakes. She wrapped herself in a blanket and piece of waterproof fabric and hunkered down, letting herself appreciate the heavy stillness of the crisp night air as the pristine white snowflakes began to cover the ground and stick to the tree limbs around their camp.

The sound of the hatch being pushed open drew her attention but she didn't turn around hoping that whoever it was would take the hint to leave her in peace. Time alone was a luxury that Clarke didn't get much of these days.

It had been a tough adjustment, she'd spent 14 months on the Ark in solitary confinement, but once on the ground she had been surrounded by people. Along with Bellamy she was the camp leader, and the 100 needed attention, support, encouragement, chastisement, direction and her skills at healing. All day, every day. There were no days off, not leading into their first winter on the ground in nearly a hundred years.

"You'll freeze."

Her shoulders relaxed at the sound of his voice. "I'm fine, Bellamy." He stood over her, then leant down to wrap his fingers around her forearm and drag her to her feet. "I said I'm fine, I don't-"

"Your hands are freezing already," he cut her off, stating a fact she couldn't deny.

She looked up at him in annoyance. Her relationship with Bellamy was complicated. They disagreed a lot. Fought often. But they supported each other even when they didn't manage to come to an agreement, because one thing they did agree on consistently was that the 100 were better off with both of them, making decisions together, and showing a united front.

But he'd become more protective of her since they'd woken up tangled together on the couch in the secret bunker, a week after they'd withstood Dax's attack and stopped pretending to be stronger than they were, at least in front of each other. They'd allowed themselves to be vulnerable, and the trust that had grown from that moment had made everything easier. But his domineering way of blocking her (or at least attempting to block her) from any activity that he deemed too dangerous or unnecessary was annoying to say the least.

Ever one to find the bright side of any problem, Clarke acknowledged that being on the receiving end of Bellamy's hyper protectiveness had brought her and Octavia closer, and made his sister feel like she had an ally and confidant, no matter how different the two girls were in temperament.

"Remind me which one of us can recognize the signs of frost bite?"

"Both of us, Doc. You trained the defense team just last week, me included," he countered.

"And yet you don't seem to remember any of it since you-"

"We can't risk you getting sick because you're too stubborn to come in out of the cold, Princess."

"I'll come inside in a minute."

They faced off, his dark eyes boring into her pale baby blues. Neither blinked.

"How can someone so smart be so stupid?" he said in exasperation. Reaching into the drop ship he pulled out a blanket before shutting the hatch.

Pulling the blanket and tarp from around her he wrapped them around himself, earning a howl of protest before he turned her so her back was to him, and stepping up behind her, wrapped his arms and the 2nd blanket around her. Once he had them both cocooned in the blankets, he pulled her tighter into his chest and sat down with her in his lap.

Clarke blew out an annoyed breath at being so ruthlessly and effectively manhandled, but didn't try to get away. Instead she adjusted the blanket around her. "You could have just told me what you wanted."

"Where's the fun in that?"

She rolled her eyes but let him wrap his arms more tightly around her. Clarke relaxed against him, appreciating that he was more comfortable to sit on than the drop ship, and much warmer too.

"It's beautiful," he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, his eyes focused on the white flakes drifting towards the ground.

She nodded, not wanting to talk. The quiet stillness that had arrived with the snow was new, and somehow felt sacred. Not that they had much use for such thoughts or religion. Most of the Ark's inhabitants were decedents of scientists and intellectuals, and as the generations had passed from one to the other in space, most of them had lost whatever religious beliefs their people had once held. But Clarke felt it, and she didn't question it.

She also didn't want to discuss it, didn't want Bellamy's practical or sarcastic reply let some of the joy out of the feeling, so she kept quiet. Instead she wrapped her arms over his, under the blankets, and hugged them tighter to her body.

Time passed and a white blanket formed over the ground, making everything look fresh and new. Untouched. She knew they should go inside, get some sleep, rest for the next day of nearly oppressive responsibility and necessary actions, but she didn't want to move.

"Are you cold?" she asked, not wanting to keep him there, cold and bored, just because she wanted to look at the moonlight reflecting off the snow for awhile longer.

He shrugged, and she turned in his lap to try to find an answer in his expression. He seemed… peaceful. She smiled at him softly. "I wanted to come here, not just for the view, but to be alone, but this is better," she confessed softly.

Bellamy studied her face, then slowly dipped his head until his lips brushed across hers. She shivered lightly, but not from the temperature. "Your lips are cold," she whispered.

"Then warm me up."

She smiled again, curling one hand into the wavy dark hair at the back of his neck before pressing her mouth to his. She sank into him, twisting so their bodies lined up better as their mouths moved together in perfect unison.

They'd kissed before, on several occasions now, and it had gone farther than just kissing, but she had been reluctant to go to his bed. Being with him like this was freeing, exhilarating, but also terrifying. They couldn't risk their working rapport, their friendship, with an impulsive romantic relationship or ill thought out sexual liaison.

Clarke liked that she could be herself with Bellamy, that she didn't have to temper her words, nor did she have to pretend to be strong when she wasn't.

But when he looked at her, she felt stripped bare, like he could see all of her, the good and the bad. Every secret, every insecurity, every thought she wanted kept private, everything she wasn't proud of displayed for him to see. And that was terrifying. She needed him, and she worried that going to his bed would end in losing him. She'd lost her father, her best friend, her freedom, her home, her security and ended up on Earth. Here she'd lost her innocence, her best friend again, and her mother. She'd done things she'd never imagined possible, and when she'd tried to form a relationship, take comfort in someone she thought she could trust, it had blown up in her face in the form of Raven.

Clarke doubted her own judgment when it came to forming tight relationships. She'd trusted her mother, misjudged Wells, relied on Finn. She wasn't sure what in meant that she'd distrusted Bellamy so completely at first and now would trust him with her life without question.

Her life, yes, her heart? She wasn't sure. She already felt connected to him, tied to him in some inexorable way that if something happened to him, she knew it would gut her. She could only imagine that it would be worse if she gave into whatever it was that drew her to him, drew them to each other and let herself be with him fully.

She knew he was waiting for her to make up her mind. Knew that each day his patience wore thinner.

She broke the kiss but didn't try to move away from him, instead she buried her head in the curve of his neck, her arms tightening around him until she was shaking.

"Hey. What's wrong?" he asked softly, a tone she only ever heard him use with her or with his sister when Octavia was particularly upset. She didn't answer, didn't want to have to find words to explain her jangled emotions. "Are you afraid of me, Clarke?"

He knew, or thought he knew, that she wasn't physically afraid of him. He would never use his strength to hurt her. He knew she didn't like his domineering approach to opposition, or his habit of taking her arm and pulling her along to wherever he wanted her to go when he got tired of arguing with her about it. But sometimes when she looked at him, he swore he could see fear simmering in the pale blue of her eyes.

Her head popped up so fast she nearly knocked into his chin, but her expression was so flabbergasted, that the curl of worry that had wound itself around his chest for the past few days seemed to just disappear.

"No, of course not," she denied heatedly.

"Then do you not trust me? After all this time? Everything we've been through?" They'd been on the ground for seven weeks, but it felt like years.

Her face twisted into an expression that was both regretful and defensive. "I trust you. I trust you to do what you think is best for the group, even if I disagree. I trust that you have the right motivations. I trust that you see things and understand things about the group that I don't. I trust that you… that you…" she couldn't force herself to say 'care about me,' it just seemed both presumptuous and like words that once spoken would change things. "I trust that you don't want to see me hurt, that you'd protect me, that you have protected me, all of us."

"Then what is it?" he asked, and her heart fluttered at the vulnerability in the question. She wouldn't have blamed him for being angry at her continued dancing around the edges of whatever was happening between them on a personal level, but while he'd shown some frustration, he'd never raged at her over it like he had during some of their political disagreements.

Clarke swallowed hard and looked down, not able to hold his gaze. He was so strong, and he didn't overthink things like she did. He made decisions, acted, and moved forward. But she was stuck, paralyzed by her own fears and uncertainties. He would probably think her reasons were ridiculous, or worse immature or insulting.

The simple truth was she was afraid of making another mistake, and afraid of what it could cost her. Afraid that she couldn't be what he wanted, that she wouldn't be enough to hold his interest once she stopped running. Logically she understood that he was a hunter, a human predator, and the simple fact that she ran from him, stood up to him, added to her appeal for him. If he decided that chasing her, waiting for her was too much trouble and walked away from her now, she reasoned that she wouldn't really have lost him, because he'd never really been hers.

He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and brought her head up, silently asking her to look at him. Clarke bit her lip, her gaze searching his face desperately, but she didn't know what she was looking for. Understanding. Forgiveness. Certainty. Something.

If she knew what she needed from him, or from herself, to make a choice, one way or the other, she would resolve it. But it eluded her.

However, there was a truth she could give him. Something that might help him understand that her fear wasn't because of him, not about him, not entirely.

"I… When I lost my dad… it hurt. So much. Like a piece of me was missing. Like I'd never be warm or safe again," she choked up and he soothed her with his hand rubbing circles on her back as he drew her closer to lie against his chest. "I never thought I would lose him, never even considered it, which is stupid… And I know my story is hardly unique. You lost both your parents. So many of us have lost loved ones…"

"It sounds like you were close to your dad," he said, cutting off her digression into how much they'd all suffered, knowing that she was thinking that she had no right to complain, given the circumstances so many of the 100 had survived, him included.

"I was," she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. She talked to him for a few minutes, telling him how kind her father had been, how concerned he was with every life on the Ark, how he'd read to her when she'd been little, and always encouraged her to pursue anything she was interested in, no matter how practical or impractical.

"He must have been proud of your drawing," Bellamy offered.

Clarke tried to fight back the wave of tears that choked her, but a few spilled out onto his shirt and she knew he had to know she was crying, but he didn't say anything. That was part of their bond. They were allowed to be vulnerable in front of each other, which was a relief since they were forced to project a calm and certain demeanor to the rest of the group, no matter how out of control they might really feel.

"I loved him, and he loved me."

Bellamy wondered what it was like, to be that certain that you were loved unconditionally. His mother had loved him, loved Octavia, but she'd heaped responsibility on his shoulders from the moment she'd decided to proceed with her illegal second pregnancy. Bellamy didn't even know who the father was, but his mother had loved the man enough to keep his child even if it meant constraining Bellamy's childhood even more than it already was by being part of the lower class, non-essential personnel on the Ark where resources were scarce and fun childhood experiences were even more so.

"I still feel it, inside me. This gaping hole where he was. And I just think… I think that if we tried this… if we tried and failed…"

"Hey," he pushed her away from him, wanting to see her face, wanting her to see his, when he said the words. "You're not going to lose me. We're in this for the long haul, Clarke. It's your call whether it's as friends or lovers, but one way or another; we'll be facing down what each day brings together."

He saw the wonder in her eyes, her desperation to believe him. He kissed her firmly, a chaste kiss that was meant to express something besides passion. She relaxed back towards his chest, cuddling into his lap and warmth, no longer interested in the snowfall that had drawn her there to begin with.

"If you trust me-"

"I do."

"Then trust that. Trust that I mean what I say, Clarke."

She blinked, her expression pensive as she considered his words. Bellamy wasn't exactly the strong, silent type, he had plenty to say, but what he said, he meant. He spoke with purpose. And he didn't lie. Not to her. He had withheld information, important information in the first few weeks when they'd been on opposite sides of the fight for the group, but even when he'd wanted her to remove her bracelet, he'd said it outright, hadn't tried to manipulate her with pretty words.

She did trust him, now she just had to find the courage and strength to trust in herself, that she would be enough for him, and if she wasn't, or if something else came between them (most likely their own stubborn selves) that she would be strong enough to deal with the emotional fallout while still working at his side.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next day, Clarke was left with no doubt that her feelings certainly were not what was holding her back from grabbing on to Bellamy and holding on to him for dear life.

Clarke was training a group of five who were normally assigned to the scavenging team. They'd finally assembled enough first aid supplies for her to be comfortable with sending out small med packs with each team, including supplies for bandaging wounds, small sutures, and basic wound cleaning and disinfecting.

"OK, I know this sounds counterintuitive, but for puncture wounds, if it's deep, leave whatever caused the wound in place, it will prevent bleeding."

"You mean leave the knife in, like with Finn," one of the girls piped up.

"Or a grounder's spear," a boy said darkly.

"Yes. Unless you need to remove it to get away quickly. But if you can try to break it off and leave the embedded weapon in place. Otherwise, if it's something small, or a shallow wound, you want to try to remove the object, carefully, without causing more damage, then let it bleed for five minutes to clear any other debris from the wound, unless they're bleeding profusely," she went on, explaining that unless they were near a water source, their best bet was to cover the wound and get back to camp.

"But if we're near water-" the curious girl piped up again, but was cut off by shouts from outside.

Clarke glanced towards the fabric curtain that had been fashioned from the parachute fabric to form a partition, separating the med bay from the rest of the bottom floor of the drop ship. Monty stuck his head in. "Incoming wounded."

"Who?" she asked, motioning for the assembled teens to stand to the side.

"Not sure, the hunting party that went out this morning. Everyone else is back already," Monty explained, rushing to get the basic supplies ready.

Clarke's stomach clenched, Bellamy had been with that group. Octavia burst into the med bay, her pale face confirming Clarke's fears. "It's Bellamy."

Clarke moved to the entrance but Miller and Drew came in, half carrying Bellamy between them. Bellamy was swearing loudly, shouting orders. "Next time I tell you to move, Mark, you fucking move." The guy bringing up the rear, Mark Block, a guy with ruddy cheeks, square face and curly hair cut into a flat top, hung his head. "Did you hear me? You don't think, you just act. Got it?"

Mark jumped at Bellamy's volume and anger. "Yes, sir."

"Get out there and skin that damn cat. I want its pelt to look like something that graced the homes of those fuckers that pushed the buttons to drop the bombs, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

Clarke indicated that Bellamy should sit on the table, but he resisted, standing for a moment assessing his own wound before undoing his pants' fastening and starting to push the fabric down his legs. He glanced up to see Clarke's pale face, then over at Octavia, who was hovering a few feet away. "I'm fine. Just going to need some stitches."

"Sit down, Bellamy," Clarke instructed, only to be ignored as he struggled to work his pants off, with the shredded fabric stuck to the wound in his thigh by blood.

"Damn it," he roared.

"Stop," Clarke ordered in a commanding voice that had no impact on his efforts. After another few seconds of ignoring her, he overbalanced and tilted dangerously to the side when his leg wouldn't hold his weight, Miller grabbed him and forced him back upright.

"Seriously, Bells, just do what she says, she's the doctor!" Octavia shouted.

"I just need to…" he looked up to see Clarke's pissed off face and paused in his struggles. "Just don't cut them off, there aren't many clothes here that will fit me," he finally said reasonably.

Clarke rolled her eyes but dropped to her knees, untying his shoes and easing them off each foot before beginning to peel his pants down his legs slowly, her hands skimming along his thickly muscled thighs.

From the side of the room where her trainees still stood, watching the drama with wide eyes, they heard a whisper. "Jeeze, is she going to suck him off or stich him up?"

Bellamy cut a glare at them, but as soon as he looked away, seeing the red stain Clarke's cheeks, the little bastards continued.

"I don't know, maybe both."

"Well that's _one_ way to end a fight."

"That's the _best_ way to end a fight."

Everyone in camp had heard Clarke and Bellamy's shouting match that morning. She had been planning on going out with Monty and a few others to the lake to gather more seaweed, since it would die off with the cold temps, but Bellamy had nixed the plan instantly. The fight that ensued was both loud and public since they'd been at the campfire when he'd heard her plans for the day.

He'd been incredulous that she planned to go out when even the least Earth savvy among them could track a group in the fresh snow, let alone the Grounders. She'd found his tone to be insulting and his attitude controlling. It was downhill from there.

"Get out!" he said quietly in a tone that was more menacing than if he'd been shouting.

"No," she countermanded him, rising to her feet once she'd gotten his pants off. "They're here to learn, and now they can observe a real treatment."

"They're going to get to observe my fist, up close and personal," he threatened.

Clarke ignored him, putting on her best detached doctor attitude, before showing the observers how to assess the wound, how to clean it, the treatments they had available for disinfectants and antibiotics, finally stitching together the three cuts the cat's claw had made in Bellamy's thigh, and wrapping the wound.

One of them turned green and ran from the room when Clarke made her first stitch, and two others looked decidedly queasy. "If you're going to throw up, leave," she ordered. "No one will think any less of you." Bellamy's expression called her words into doubt, but two more quickly exited the room.

When Clarke had finished with Bellamy she looked up, as if only then realizing that Miller and Drew where still there. "He'll be off his feet for at least a full 24 hours. It should be closer to three days, but-"

"Not going to happen, Princess, there are too many things to do," Bellamy cut in.

"You'll need to cover his guard shifts, no excursions outside the gate until he can balance his whole ego on his injured leg," she sassed, drawing a snort from Miller. "You can take him to his tent to rest now. Octavia, go with him, if the wound feels hot or he starts running a fever, come find me immediately," Clarke instructed, turning around to drop the soiled bandages in the trash, then wash her hands of his blood.

Clark blocked out everything else, but getting his blood off of her. Their existence was fragile, could be ended in a single moment from a danger they'd never considered or the 501 ways they'd already discovered to die on Earth. Her hands were shaking, and that upset her more. She needed to be able to be detached when treating the 100, but especially the people she cared about. Their lives could depend on her ability to be calm in a crisis. She clenched her hands into fists until her short broken nails bit into her palms, the pain somehow clearing her mind.

Octavia hesitated, but left the drop ship with Monty, Miller and Drew at Bellamy's curt head nod.

"I'll just rest here for a minute, if you don't mind, Princess," he said softly once they were alone.

He saw her back stiffen and waited for her to face him, but she just busied her hands putting away supplies in their tidy, makeshift containers.

"Clarke," he called her, but she continued to ignore him. Standing up he shuffled towards her, his first step quiet, but the next drawing a grunt from him as the pain kicked up a couple notches when the movement put pressure on his damaged leg.

Clarke spun around, flinching quickly then rushing at him. "What are you doing, you stupid idiot?" she shouted, but he could hear the rasp of tears in her throat. She hugged him from the side, supporting his weight and walking him back to where to could lean back on the table, relieving his leg of his weight. "Do you think? Do you ever stop to think-"

"Calm down."

She glared at him through glassy eyes. "You're such an asshole."

"Yeah, well, your bedside manner sucks, Doc." She shook her head at him. "We were hunting a panther, little did we know it was hunting us. It would have killed Mark, I killed it instead," he said simply. "I'll be fine."

"Not if I stab you in your sleep."

"And undo all your work patching me up? You don't mean that, Princess," he teased, coasting his hand up her arm to her shoulder and tugging her closer while his other hand curled around her waist. Cupping his hand around her jaw he lifted her face for a kiss.

"Someone could see," she said softly in warning, but didn't move away. Her heart was still aching with the possibility of losing him, and she didn't want to step away from him, wanted to stay right there in his arms for as long as she could.

"Then let them," he said, kissing her again and relaxing into her touch as her hands slid around his waist.

They hadn't been hiding the changes in their relationship from the camp, but both made a concerted effort to avoid touching each other when they were in full view of everyone. Close quarter living afforded little privacy to anyone, and even less to the two leaders of their camp.

-The 100—

Three days later, Clarke had just finished changing Bellamy's bandage when she stood upright again and he noticed the flinch of pain on her face. "Are you hurt?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, just a kink in my back," she explained casually. "I must have slept weird."

"Well, since my leg is almost healed, thanks to you, how about I return the favor, give you a massage tonight? I guarantee I can work out any kinks you have," he flirted.

Clarke shot him an amused look, not quite the reaction he was going for. "Your leg is not 'almost' healed, but if you follow my instructions it should be mostly functional in two more days. _If _you follow my instructions and rest."

He sat back on the medical table, crossed his arms, and smirked at her. "Make it worth my while, Clarke."

She looked nonplused at first then smiled, tilting her head at him as she approached. "If…" she reached him and stood between his legs, resting her hands on his thighs, careful of his injury. "_If_ you are a good boy, I will let you give me that massage once you're healed."

His hand tangled in her hair and tugged her closer. "You can do better than that," he said huskily.

Her lips were curved into a smile as she leaned forward to press her mouth against his. He didn't content himself with a chaste kiss, banding his arms around her waist until she was glued to his chest, his tongue dueling with hers.

Clarke was breathless when he released her. "I'll look forward to your counter offer, then Mr. Blake."

Bellamy smiled and used the wood crutch one of the younger kids who was good at carving and whittling had crafted for him to exit the drop ship.

-The 100—

An hour later, Clarke finished up removing a large wood splinter from one of the teens who was working on fortifying the wall. "Keep it clean," she said.

"And pay more attention next time," Octavia said sternly.

The boy pouted, but left without comment.

"You're getting better at treatments every day, Octavia, but showing compassion is also a good trait in a doctor."

"That kid needed some tough love. He got the splinter trying to look cool for Megan," Octavia said scornfully. Clarke shook her head, she had enough trouble with her own love life to be concerned about anyone else's. "Speaking of dumb asses, have you talked to Bellamy yet about Oliver?" Clarke ignored the question and continued cleaning up. "Damn it, Clarke, you're supposed to be the reasonable one." Clarke looked at the pretty dark haired girl in question. "Bellamy is the hotheaded one, you're the reasonable one."

"Exactly," Clarke said. "No need to start drama with your brother."

Octavia huffed out a breath, but didn't push for Clark to change her mind.

-The 100—

Octavia found Bellamy at the evening campfire and waited anxiously for him to finish his dinner before pouncing. "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah," he said flatly. "I got that."

"What?" she said in annoyance. "Is it a crime to want to talk to my brother? Do I have to go through Miller to get a pass or something?"

He used the crutch to walk slowly towards their dorm. He'd put Octavia next to him, and Clarke next to her, the rest of the guys he trusted in the other rooms, though he fully expected Clark to vacate her room eventually, if he could ever convince her to take a chance on him.

"No, but you haven't actually talked to me about anything except for camp related business in weeks. The rest was more bitching and complaining than talking," he said scornfully. Octavia's anger had been tough on Bellamy, used to his sisters adoration and devotion, her sustained cold shoulder had been a slap in the face. He'd occupied himself with the camp, and whatever was happening with Clarke, and the belief that he was doing what was right for Octavia whether she could see it or not. "And you certainly haven't sought me out," he finished explaining, and Octavia's steps faltered.

"Yeah, well you messed up," she attacked, her shoulders rigid with self-righteous anger.

"So did you, O. So did you."

She scowled at him. "I'm not here to talk about me. I want to know why you aren't doing something about what happened to Clarke?"

Bellamy scowled, stopping to look down at his sister. "What do you mean?"

"She's hurt, Bells, come on. She's not that good of an actress. Tell me you haven't noticed?"

Bellamy's face clouded with anger and he scowled. "Hurt how? When? And why didn't you tell me?"

"The same day you got hurt, and I'm telling you now," she said defiantly. "Oliver Garard."

"Who?"

"Oliver Garard hurt her," Octavia said quietly. "He pushed her down on the wood pile. Hard. She's got a huge bruise. He's an ass. Especially to Clarke, but he went too far this time and before you ask, I tried to get her to tell you, since I thought it would be better coming from her."

Bellamy stopped outside the dorm door, knowing Clark was inside since he'd watched her go in while he'd been eating and waiting for Octavia to spill whatever it was that had her bouncing from one foot to the other.

He grabbed the collar of his sister's jacket and hauled her up onto her toes. "To be clear, if you ever, _ever_ hear about anyone in this camp, especially a girl, being hurt by someone else, you tell me immediately. You got that?"

"Yeah, geeze."

He released her and went inside, pushing aside the curtain that made up the fourth wall of Clarke's room, seeing her slip her jacket off then reach for her shirt. He waited silently; he'd seen her without her shirt in one of their more heated makeout sessions, and wanted to see what her injuries were for himself since she clearly wasn't going to be honest with him about it.

When she lifted the shirt he couldn't miss the damage even in the poor illumination from the single lantern she had. "When were you going to tell me about that?" he seethed.

Clark spun, covering her chest even as she registered that it was Bellamy who had spoken. "Bellamy!" she shouted, stepping backwards instinctively at the look of absolute rage on his face.

"You weren't, were you? You never would have told me," he said coldly.

He could see the uncertainty on her face, the regret, but it didn't diffuse his temper. She was his. His to protect and he'd failed. He stepped towards her, cornering her easily since the space was only eight feet deep to start with.

"Bellamy," she tried again, but for once the sound of his name, spoken in her raspy voice didn't please him. He wrapped his hand around her forearm and drug her into his chest, closing his arms around her carefully even as his mouth plundered hers.

He was angry, boiling over from it, and he needed to work some of it off before he confronted the asshole who had touched her. He had to be calm, rational and in control for that, and at the moment he was anything but.

Clarke acquiesced to the forceful kiss, her hands clutching at his arms and shoulders as her breasts flattened against his chest. After several minutes she tried to draw back, but he fisted a hand in her hair, holding her in place as he nibbled on her full upper lip, before sealing his mouth over hers again. The second kiss was no less demanding, but less angry.

Breaking the kiss, he stared into her eyes, feeling a deep well of satisfaction that her pupils were dilated and she was obviously a little hazy and disoriented.

He kissed her again, pressing his mouth firmly to hers, hearing her murmur of approval before spinning her around to look at her back. She let out a gasp, clearly not expecting the move, but she recovered quickly, trying to turn back around to hide the bruise from him.

Bellamy seized her shoulders and easily pushed her down onto the mattress full of pine needles, sitting astride her hips to hold her still as she struggled.

"You'll tear your stitches," she huffed at him, turning her face to the side so she could see him, but he ignored her, running his hands along the edges of the bruise what were already yellowing, indicating that it had begun to heal.

Three days, she'd been hurt for three days and he hadn't known, she hadn't told him. "Why?"

"You were injured, I didn't want to-"

"Don't lie to me. The only reason I didn't notice or find this is because I was hurt. My injury is how you hid yours, it is not why you did it."

He saw her face tense, and she turned her head away from him, hiding her expression. "I don't… you can't fight my battles, Bellamy. Oliver is angry, and I understand why. I do. I don't want you to-"

"Kick his ass?" Bellamy finished for her. "That will just be the start of it, Princess."

"Just listen, OK? I knew Oliver on the Ark. His mom was sick. You know how it works, there's only so much medicine. If you can't be healed with the amount allotted to you, there is no more."

She shuddered as his fingers continued exploring her back, coasting over her soft skin, always circling back to the large bruise the occupied a good portion of her left upper back.

"You know what it's like to lose a parent, we both do. The anger, the grief, the feeling of being hopeless and helpless… he's angry."

"That's not an excuse to hurt someone else," he said, cold anger burning in his voice, in direct contrast to the softness of his hands on her. For Bellamy violence was almost always about achieving something, not making himself feel better.

"I know," she agreed, the tension rushing out of her body as she admitted defeat. " I don't like how he's been treating me, but-"

"Wait," he said sharply, remembering Octavia's words. Treating you? This wasn't a one time thing?" Octavia had said something about the boy going too far this time.

"He's never hurt me before, just… he's rude. Aggressive. Demeaning. Not that different that quite a few others, if you recall," she baited him.

"I never laid a hand on you in anger, no matter how annoying you were," he said, bending over her to press a kiss to the nape of her neck to take the sting out of the words.

He sat up quickly, the move putting too much pressure on his stitches, and he'd hate for her to be right if they tore now. "Who else?"

"What?" she asked, pushing up onto her elbows and twisting to see his face, but as his hands stroked over her back she fell back to her stomach. Somehow his touch was both soothing and arousing, and Clarke meant to enjoy it, and hope that touching her would let him calm down some more.

"Who else has laid their hands on you?"

"No one."

"I will find out Clarke, you may as well just tell me. It'll be better coming from you," he said in a tone that asked for her trust.

"I'm not going to tattle to you because someone pulled my hair in the water tent, Bellamy," she said in exasperation.

His hands paused on her back, making her sad that they were heading for another fight. "Do you think you're the only one he'd be willing to use violence against? Do you think that by protecting him, you're helping the camp? You're not. So he has a beef with you because of the Ark's laws. Who's to say he won't have a beef with someone else over something else. How will you feel when he attacks someone else? You're the one who wanted us to have rules, Clarke. And I agree, we need them."

"Who decides? You asked me that once and-"

"We do. We decide. If we're wrong, the group will let us know, but we decide Clarke. That's the way it is. And since this was a crime against you, I decide."

"Bellamy," she said plaintively, her compassion for others, even the guy who'd hurt her, clear in her voice.

"I won't banish him, or beat the shit out of him, but he will be punished. We set an example, now, and end this shit before it spreads."

He waited until he saw her nod, then resumed his massage. After he felt the last of the tension leave her back he unsnapped her bra and turned her over beneath him, revealing her chest and rosy cheeks to his avid gaze.

Still sitting astride her, he cupped her breasts gently, his thumbs stroking the distended tips. She looked up at him, taking in his pleasure in touching her and feeling the connection, the attraction, between them rebound and grow.

Sitting up she slide her hands up his arms, loving the firmness and cut of his muscles, knowing that she could depend on him to be strong for the camp, and yet gentle with her.

She kissed him slowly then pulled away, sliding backwards on the bed and drawing him down with her.

-The 100—

The next morning, Bellamy watched as Oliver Garard, a guy who had at least 60 pounds on Clarke ate his breakfast alone. Bellamy kept tight hold on his temper, seeing several others give him dark, disgusted looks as they passed him. The camp had made its own judgment and now Bellamy would issue his.

Standing and making his way to the center of the gathered teenage delinquents, Bellamy saw Miller, Drew, and Monroe fall into position around the camp, already briefed on what was coming.

"When we first got here, I wanted us to revel in our freedom." There were shouts of approval. "But we quickly realized that we were not alone and living on Earth was not the paradise we had heard about in stories." The group settled down. "We have rules. Rules to keep us safe, rules to keep us alive. I hoped that that would be enough. The Ark said you were all criminals. Here, on the ground you had a second chance at freedom. But violence against the group will not be tolerated. Today, we make a new rule. If you don't like it you can leave. Make your own way outside the fence. Alone. We will wish you the best of luck, but we will not tolerate anyone inside the fence preying on others. Is that clear?"

There were hesitant nods, some fearful, some relieved around the group, and Bellamy wondered what else he had not seen. Charlotte had been the youngest among them, but there were a few others not much older than her. And a few of the girls were small, meek, they would be easy targets for someone without scruples.

"Oliver Garard, step forward."

The boy stiffened, glanced resentfully at Clarke, who was standing with Raven, Monty and Jasper.

"Garard assaulted Clarke. Does anyone dispute that?" No one spoke. "Garard, you are sentenced to sanitation duty for ten days, on top of your other responsibilities. Fail to get all your work done, and it will double to 20 days. Fail again, and you'll answer to me."

Oliver only met Bellamy's eyes for a second, before wisely looking down and nodding his head in acceptance. Bellamy looked at him in a way that left no doubt that this was not the punishment he'd wanted to issue.

Miller stepped forward and nudged Oliver forward. "Get moving. You have a lot of work to do, Garard."

Monroe fell in step beside Miller. "Consider yourself lucky, Bellamy wanted to put you on half rations. Three guesses who objected, and the first two don't count."

-The 100—

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Not many reviews for the last chapter... so if you're reading and enjoying, consider leaving a review.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN- I wanted to respond to a few questions raised in the review (thanks for those) … I didn't write the scene with Oliver hurting Clarke, I didn't think it was necessary or would add that much to the story. And Bellamy does know about Clarke and Finn, he's observant, and this story is not meant to be a minute by minute detailing of all their interactions, I am jumping ahead to cover relationship growth moments._

_Looking forward, I think this story will be about 10 chapters, and the last 2 are already written. The next chapter will roll in some of Unity Day, and I may include some plot points from I am death but I will diverge from the show after that. I can't keep chasing it, and have my end already planned out._

_Quick question- I keep seeing that people are writing that 14 people died from the hemorrhagic fever- but I only saw 2 bodies (maybe 3) and adding those and Connor to the list of already dead equals 14 overall dead since they landed- not 14 from one cause. How are other people interpreting it? I googled and there doesn't seem to be a consensus, but if 14 did die from the fever then the 100 is down to 75 plus Bellamy and Raven._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"You don't remember me do you?"

Clarke looked up from her medical supplies to see the guy Bellamy had recruited to stand guard in the drop ship for any supply thieves, but really to watch her. She knew it, he knew it, but they both acted like his lie was the truth to make it easier on both of them.

"No, sorry, did we meet on the Ark?" she asked, looking him over and searching her memory. He was big, taller and wider than Bellamy. His rich coco dark skin stood out in contrast to his white teeth, which were often displayed in easy smiles. He was big enough to have been a power player in camp, but he wasn't violent, had no ambition to be in charge.

Bellamy had told her that initially Jones had been one of the delinquents in camp he'd worried about. Physically Jones would be a challenge, but it had never come to that. Atom had said that Jones was in the Sky Box Lockup for stealing food. He was so big the standard rations that everyone on the Ark got just weren't enough to keep away the gnawing hunger. Here they could drink water to fill their stomachs when they were low on food, but in space, everything was in short supply and strictly rationed, including water.

But Jones had quickly given his allegiance to Bellamy, keeping order in the camp, and keeping guard for the Grounders. "I met you in Med Bay. You were just a kid. We were both kids. You'd think you'd remember, you helped me. Went out of your way," he said, looking down then back up, pinning her with a serious look. "Unless it was something you did all the time."

Clarke frowned. "I'm sorry, Jones, I really don't remember."

"I was starving, or it felt like it anyway. I'd saved and traded most of my rations for a week to get medication for my dad. He had reached his lifetime limit for medicine, he had-"

"Cancer," she whispered. "I remember. I gave you my rations."

"You did more than that. You sat with me and you told me the truth, that he was going to die. You told me exactly what pain meds to get him and in what dose so he didn't have to die in pain, then you left and not even an hour later you came back with the rations I needed to trade for the meds."

Clarke's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry he died."

"Yeah, thanks. I heard later that you had to go out with one of the kids you got rations from, some jerk named Will?"

"You heard that?" Clarke said, a frown of distaste marking her face.

"Yeah, gossiping doesn't use resources, so it's one of the Ark's main recreational activities," he said with a smile.

"Yeah, but… you don't seem like the type."

He shrugged. "I'm not, but I made a point to listen out for gossip about you. You helped me… I wanted to repay the favor if I could. So when I heard the story about you kicking that guy in the balls… I listened."

Clarke flushed, but also looked a little proud and defiant. "Yeah, well, he deserved it." She chuckled. "And it worked, that creep never bothered me again."

"What'd he do anyway?" Jones asked, wondering if it was Clarke's kick or his strategic gut punch to the kidney's that had convinced Will to stay away.

"He grabbed my…" she gestured towards her chest, chuckling at the memory. "Real smooth."

"You couldn't have been more than 14," he said in disgust.

"Thirteen," she corrected. "But I was ah…"

"I remember," he said with a smile.

"I just wanted you to know... I have your back. I didn't agree to do this job until Blake said what it was. I'm not here for him."

Clarke smiled softly. "Thanks."

-The 100—

Clarke sat at the campfire with several of the others, people who a few days before had barely spoken to her, and only then when they had to. Things had changed. She and Bellamy were working well together. Clarke had met and gotten to know more of the 100 through the cross training, and possibly most helpfully, Jones had spread around the story of how they met on the Ark. Suddenly, Clarke's imaginary princess tiara was more an angel's halo than a symbol of inequality.

However it happened, Clarke was grateful for it. She meant to make her stand with these people, against any enemies, including whoever might come down from the Ark. It was nice to think they might stand for her too, one day.

Oliver Garard shuffled up to the fire, weariness in every line of his body, waiting for his allocation of meat. Clarke watched him, her expression carefully blank, but as he glanced at her, surprise flitted across her face, followed closely by a knowing resignation.

She stood up and went to the command tent. "Bellamy?"

"Yeah, give me a minute, Princess," he said, his gaze flickering over her and determining that she didn't need anything urgently, before he returned his attention to Miller. "Let's focus here tomorrow. I'll check with our Doc to see when Finn can get off his ass and back to tracking."

Miller smiled slyly at Bellamy then Clarke, before focusing on the maps again, committing them to memory.

"What do you need, Princess?"

"Well," she said in a tone that made him wary. "I was wondering what happened to Oliver Garard's face."

Bellamy's expression was carefully neutral. "There are 90 odd people in this camp, sweetheart, I don't keep track of them all. If he's hurt, I'd expect you to know more than I would, being our Doc and all." Clarke did not look amused, but Miller certainly was, his shoulders quaking with silent laughter.

"Bellamy," she scolded, but her stern look had no effect on him.

Miller walked towards them, slapping Bellamy on the back with a look of pride on his face. "To be fair Clarke," he said, his large dark eyes somehow both sincere and amused. "He made it clear that he was punching that dude as Bellamy, not as our esteemed leader."

Clarke scowled. "Yes, thanks Miller. That makes me feel much better," she deadpanned.

Miller left the tent, leaving them alone. "He knows."

"Clearly he doesn't know to keep his mouth shut," Bellamy groused.

"About us, I mean."

Bellamy nodded and traced his finger over Clarke's cheek. "Yeah. But he can be trusted. Miller's in charge whenever I leave camp, he'd be an idiot not to notice how often we leave together."

Clarke blew out a breath through her nose. "I can't decide if I should be annoyed with you or hug you." He smiled, and she smiled back. He didn't smile much, and she was still getting used to how different it made him look. She looked up at him through her lashes, biting her lower lip. "Maybe if you told me, exactly, how it went down, I'd be able to make a better assessment."

"Feeling bloodthirsty, Princess?"

She shrugged, only looking a little contrite.

-The 100—

Clarke faced off with Bellamy, seeing the seriousness of his expression as he circled her. She turned, keeping her body angled towards his, tracking him in the confined space of the bunker. He leapt at her and she ducked and twisted away, his hand tangling in the silky blonde strands of her hair, causing her to cry out and push her body back towards him, instead of away.

Bellamy wrapped his arm around her, catching her weight easily, and pulling her safely into his chest. She smiled up at him, his hand, still embedded in her hair, now cupping the back of her head. She lifted her smiling face to him. "So close."

"Not close enough."

She lifted on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. "Or too close, depending on your perspective."

His eyes glittered at her, then he pulled her closer waiting for her to raise her mouth to his again before taking control of the kiss.

There hadn't been many choices on the Ark. You were born, you did as you were told, you lived day to day in a restrictive environment that decreed what, when and where you ate, what you learned, where you lived, where you went, and on and on, including what your career would be, and whether or not you could have a family.

On Earth there was nothing but choices. So many options, maybe too many. The freedom was wonderful, and frightening. Clarke had insisted on rules, and they needed them for more than to keep them alive. They needed the constraint. They needed boundaries to explore their new freedom, their new world, within.

Those boundaries would expand and contract as they lived and learned. Just as each of them had grown and stumbled as time passed on the ground, living and learning without the threat of being floated for the most minor of mistakes or offenses.

Clarke had made choices she'd never imagined. To risk her life to save others. To take life. To hurt as well as heal. To trust Bellamy. To take her own happiness in her hands. And to live, even if it meant taking a life to defend her own and the people she cared about.

Which is what brought them to where they were. In the bunker, practicing self defense. Bellamy had already trained the defense and scavenging teams. But he'd insisted that Clarke learn now, instead of waiting until the medical team's rotation came up.

He'd trained with the guards on the Ark, and had experience teaching since he had taught Octavia everything he learned including self defense. Unfortunately Clarke had an inborn hesitance when it came to hurting others. When push came to shove, she would shove back, but she lacked the killer instinct.

She was quick enough to learn the defensive moves, and Bellamy had reluctantly decided to focus on defense, hoping that if she was ever in an attack it would be enough to get her out alive.

"We have to do something with your hair," he murmured, sifting his hands through the wavy blonde locks, letting her lazy smile and the press of her body against him warm him from the inside out.

"Ponytail?"

He considered it, smiling as she pressed a kiss into his neck, trailing her nose across the juncture of neck and shoulder. He ran his hands down her back, giving her bottom a squeeze then stepping back from her. "A braid. Ponytails can be used as a handle. Control the head-"

"And you control the body," she finished for him, recalling the frustration of the lesson when he'd proved that fact, holding her to the ground with just a single finger to her forehead. Clarke hated feeling helpless.

She'd never felt helpless on the Ark before her father was sentenced. Her position as the daughter of two of the most valuable members of the Ark had afforded her some power. The illusion of self determination. Bellamy and most of the others sent to the ground had never had that illusion. They'd been born helpless, gown up locked into a future that didn't take much account of who they were or what their capabilities were. It was only the most brilliant of them that managed to break the bonds of the Ark's class structure: Monty, Raven, and Bellamy among others.

He sat on the couch, spread his legs and patted the cushion between them. Clarke arched an eyebrow in question, but did as he wanted, humming her approval as he combed her hair with his hands, then began plaiting it into a tight French braid.

"Where'd you-?" she started to ask before realizing that he'd likely braided Octavia's hair as a child.

Relations between the siblings had defrosted a bit following Octavia's conversation with Bellamy about Clarke's injury, but things were far from rosy. Octavia continually tried to sneak out of camp, succeeding at least once every few days. It drove Bellamy to distraction, and he'd taken out part of his frustration on Finn, since Octavia had gotten Finn to tell her how to avoid being tracked.

Clarke couldn't help but wonder where Octavia went on her excursions, but the girl wasn't talking. She just hoped for Bellamy's sake, as well as Octavia's, that she wasn't doing anything dangerous.

"I have a couple of moves I want you to get down today," he said, tying a piece of leather around the end of the braid.

"Hmm, sounds promising," she flirted.

"On your feet, Princess."

"That sounds less promising."

He smiled at her disappointment, feeling the lightness that she brought to him fill his chest. "Try your hardest, and I'll see if we can't squeeze in some of my other moves."

"Promises, promises," she teased but listened intently as he started talking and demonstrating what he wanted her to learn.

-The 100—

A few days later in camp, Clarke came out of med bay after seeing her third patient of the day with relatively severe contusions from the defense training Miller was conducting.

She knew they were using dull, rounded wood 'knives,' but the resulting bruises were very real.

She stopped next to Jones, watching as Miller demonstrated a move with Drew, then pointed at a boy to step forward to try it out. Clarke grimaced as Miller knocked the boy down several times telling him what he was doing wrong each time, but each time the boy got up a little slower. He didn't look like he could be more than 15 years old.

"Miller," she called, stepping forward. "Is this really necessary?"

He looked at her, his expression hard. "Yes." When she got within three feet, he reached out for her and yanked her into a headlock, expecting to use her as an example to the others to always be prepared, but Clarke surprised him, easily spinning away and pinning his arm, forcing him to the ground.

For a moment there was silence, then cat calls, whistles and cheers filled the crisp winter air. Clarke released Miller, shrugging at him in apology but grinning at Monty and Jasper who were nearby.

"Do it again," Miller ordered, putting Clark into another headlock and watching what she did closely. Her ordered her to do it a third time in slow motion for the group. "I was going to tell you that you should always be prepared, but our Princess is giving the lessons today, by being prepared. And it should go without saying that if she can take me down, you should be able to hold off a Grounder," Miller said.

Clarke's mouth fell open at the implied insult, then snapped shut as a look of determination settled over her face. "Should we demonstrate again?" she offered sweetly, a tone that should have warned Miller to be careful.

Bellamy had stepped to the edge of the circle, drawn by the sounds of cheering then compelled to stay when he saw Clarke was the center of attention.

Miller put her in another headlock, prepared to counter her move, but Clarke switched it up, instead of spinning, she reached over his shoulder, wrapped her hand around his face, pulling him backwards and off balance then used her knee to push his out from under him knocking him to the ground.

Miller laid there, stunned, looking up at her, knowing that Bellamy must have taught her, but also knowing that they were trying to keep their relationship on the down low. "Never underestimate your opponent, even if they are a little blonde girl from Phoenix," he said humbly, taking the hand she offered to help him up. "What else you got, Princess?"

She shrugged, looking smug. "Knife to the throat?"

Miller arched one eyebrow, but moved into position behind her, slipping a knife from his belt and holding it at her neck.

"Miller," Bellamy hollered, his tone saying that Miller had gone too far. Miller looked down and saw that he was holding a real knife, a sharpened stone blade. Miller made a face and tossed the knife into the ground, then reached out a hand for one of the wood blades they'd been using during practice.

"Let's see you put me on my ass again, Princess," he taunted her good naturedly.

Clarke rolled her eyes, and took a deep breath. "Down, pivot, twist," she chanted softly as she used both her arms to pull his arm down, away from her throat, giving her some room to maneuver, then bent her knees and twisted under his arm, keeping control of his wrist, using her other hand on the back of his elbow to force him down again.

Bellamy smirked, but felt the simmering anger at having watched Miller but his hands on Clarke. It was irrational, and he managed to control the urge to pull her away from his second in command, but the adrenalin was still pumping in his veins. Shooting Miller a warning look, and receiving a nod in return Bellamy gathered the hunting party that was heading out and led them out the gate.

-The 100—

Returning to camp late that night, Bellamy washed up, grabbed food and looked for Clarke and Octavia. His sister was sitting sullenly staring out the gate, eating a piece of fire roasted meat, (they really needed to come up with other ways to cook things) while Clarke was sitting on a log by the fire, with Monty, Jasper, Stewart Lennox and Masaya.

He knew the moment she saw him, her expression warming, her eyes locked on him. He nodded but didn't approach her, keeping up their ruse that they were just co-leaders in camp, maybe friends at best.

Bellamy joined the group Miller was standing with, getting a quick report on the happenings in camp while he'd been out.

"Any sign of the Grounders?"

"No, that makes it a week," Bellamy said, hoping it meant something good, but not really able to convince himself of it.

A dark haired guy approached Clarke, touching her shoulder and Bellamy frowned, watching closely as she tilted her face up to him, then jumped to her feet. She led him towards med bay and Bellamy relaxed, recognizing the kid. He had been injured a few days before holding up a log one of the other boys had dropped, stopping it from landing on one of the younger kids who was helping them construct the smoke house they were going to use to cure meat for winter if they ever got it built and if Monty's design worked.

Entering med bay 10 minutes later, Bellamy found Clark bent over the guy's shoulder as he sat on one of the drop ship seats. Clarke was re-stitching his wound where a few of the stitches had torn, but the guy was clearly looking down her shirt.

"Everything OK in here?" Bellamy asked seeing the kid pale suddenly and avert his eyes.

"Yeah, just finishing up," Clarke said cheerily, clearly none the wiser to the tension in the room.

"Good." Bellamy waited for her to tie off the last stitch, rebandage the wound then walked the kid out as she hurriedly washed her hands and put away her supplies. Outside the drop ship, Bellamy slapped the kid on the back of the head, knocking him forward a few steps. "I assume I don't need to explain what you did to deserve that?"

The boy shook his head and scurried off.

Most of the camp suspected that there was something more than friendship and partnership between their two leaders, but they didn't know. Not for sure. What was sure was that Bellamy had made it clear that if someone had a problem with Clarke, then Bellamy would have a problem with them.

Clarke had become more accepted in camp, which was good for her and for the group, but Bellamy wasn't used to sharing her attention with so many others.

-The 100-

Walking back to her dorm, Finn fell in step with her. "Hey Finn, how are you feeling?"

"Better," he said, patting his chest. The wound had closed, but the muscle damage was still a work in progress and Finn could only take short trips out of camp with the others.

She nodded and kept walking. Outside her dorm, she stopped to look at him, realizing he had something to say and meant to say it. "What is it Finn? I was hoping to get an early night."

"You want to tell me what's going on with you and Bellamy?"

Clarke stiffened. His tone was accusing, which immediately put her back up, but she was also unhappy that they hadn't kept their private life quite a private as she'd hoped. "It's none of your business, Finn, at best you're my friend, but clearly we're not that close since you never mentioned your girlfriend," Clarke said with only a hint of anger in her tone.

"It's everyone's business if your… infatuation with him is clouding your judgment," Finn argued.

"It's not, and you don't know anything about me or Bellamy," she hissed, wanting to keep their conversation between them, and not the whole camp.

"Did you know that he's got everyone in camp thinking you're together?" Clarke frowned, not sure what his point was, and certain that Bellamy had not purposely spread that idea. "He's staking his claim, Clarke. On you." She scowled. "Are you OK with being his property? Because that is how everyone is talking about you now. That you're his. That you belong to him."

"I really don't see why that matters." She shrugged it off. Maybe people knew, maybe they didn't, it had only been a matter of time from the first moment he had kissed her.

"You like it," Finn accused. "You like that he's claimed you even though he's been with half the girls in this camp."

Clarke scowled. Reminders of Bellamy's nighttime popularity early on during their time on Earth were not welcome. "I hardly think it's half," she corrected him. Only 37 girls had come down on the drop ship, three had died, one was his sister and a few were younger than Octavia.

"I'm not talking to you about this, Finn. If you want to discuss relationship dynamics and difficulties, I think you have a girlfriend for that. But no, I don't really care if the idiots around here think I'm off limits. I don't have time to mess around with them, even if one of them did want to approach me, I have other, more important things to do," she belittled his attention to something that didn't directly impact him or the group's survival.

"Just tell me," he begged. "Have you been with him?"

"Why does it matter?"

"I need to know."

She hesitated. She wasn't ready to talk about her feelings for Bellamy, or what their relationship was or could be beyond their partnership as leaders of the 100.

"Go back to Raven, Finn. If she'll still have you," Clarke said firmly. "She's amazing and she loves you. You two have history. That's rare here. Don't throw it away because you can't accept that I've moved on."

"With Bellamy Blake."

"No, I moved on the moment I realized you lied, I kept walking when I realized that you were willing to pick back up with Raven while still trying to have a connection with me. And I stopped caring when I realized that you never deserved her devotion, and you will never have mine. But yeah, if you need another reason, then it's because of Bellamy. I care about him, and I trust him. That's more than I can say about you."

-The 100—

The next morning, Clarke stumbled outside, yawning hugely. Bellamy had been in a mood the night before and had kept her up, not that she was complaining. But now another long, cold day was facing her and all she felt was tired.

"Clarke," Raven called loudly to her from across camp.

Clarke crossed to her, accepting the wooden bowl of mush that was some type of edible grain that they had made into a cereal. "Hey Raven, everything OK?"

"Still nothing from the Ark or your mom, sorry."

Clarke frowned, shaking her head, feeling the ache deep in her chest pulse. She had to accept that her mother was likely dead. It just wasn't easy. Communications with the Ark had cut off not long after they'd gotten them up, and no drop ships had appeared. Something was happening up there, and it couldn't be anything good.

"What can I do for you?"

"Yeah," Raven said with a grimace. "I was hoping I could bunk with you. I don't know too many people in camp yet, and…"

Clarke nodded, knowing that Raven moving out of the building and space she shared with Finn indicated that their relationship was at an end. At least for now."Yeah, of course."

Raven fell in step with Clarke as she headed to the drop ship, where both their work stations were located. Once inside and alone, Raven turned to Clarke, her expression thoughtful. "Finn might be a cheating jerk, but he might not be wrong about everything. Are you sure you know what you're getting into with Bellamy Blake?"

Clarke considered the question seriously, not bothering to lie. Raven was smart, more than that she was shrewd and had the same street smarts that served Bellamy so well. "Yeah, I think I do."

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	6. Chapter 6

_**AN-**_

_So if I ask for reviews, I get them, but if not… they fall off by 60%? Then I guess I ask. Review if you like the story, the characters, the development or the dialogue. FF writers don't get paid and do this for fun (or internally driven need, whichever), so while knowing people are reading is nice, getting back comments is even better. Just saying._

Has anyone else been rewatching obsessively? To give props to other fans, these are a few of my fav Bellarke vids on youtube:

Don't let me go by Милена Маклин

Pieces by greeleo111

Run by xXRedgeXx

Don't deserve you by TheTwins90

Trying not to love you by immunetonsanity

There are more good ones out there of course, but these are my current favorites.

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_**Chapter 6**_

Clark and Bellamy returned to camp from a trip supposedly to find medicinal plants, but really spending time together in the bunker. The noise from camp made them pause, then hurry towards the fence, only to find the 100 celebrating.

"Connor," Bellamy barked, seeing one of his guards stumble by. "What's going on?"

Conner drew up short, hiding the container of alcohol in his hand behind his back. "It's Unity Day," he said. "Someone was keeping a calendar, and..." Bellamy did not look impressed. "And Monty says that we have enough food to last through winter, so that and it being Unity Day..." he trailed off.

"Who's on guard duty?"

"Drew, Monroe, Jones and Derek. I just finished my shift along with-"

"It's fine Connor," Clarke spoke up, smiling. "As long as the camp is safe, it's OK to have some fun."

Connor blinked at her then looked at Bellamy cautiously. "Be ready for your shift tomorrow, anyone with a hangover will also find my foot in their ass to go along with the pounding in their head," the taller boy threatened. "Make sure everyone is aware of that fact."

"Yeah, no problem," Connor agreed, nodding quickly, relief clear in voice and expression. He gave Clarke another funny look and took off, wanting to put distance between himself and Bellamy.

Bellamy smiled at Clarke, clearly amused. "What?" she demanded.

"It's OK to have some fun?" he quoted.

Clarke straightened her shoulders, raising her chin and gave him the imperious look that had made her Princess nickname stick. "I can be fun. I don't see why everyone finds that so hard to believe. I like fun," she huffed. "But you know what's not fun? Starving, dying of dehydration, or infection, losing a limb due to lack of medicine..."

Bellamy's smile grew as her rant continued. "Yeah, Princess. You're tons of fun. Standing at a party talking about amputation and-" He chuckled when she punched him in the arm. "Next time, get your feet under you. Put some power into it," he chided.

"I think I already demonstrated by ability in taking you down today, Mr. Blake," she said quietly in her husky voice, causing his eyes to darken in remembrance of how they'd spent their afternoon.

"Best Unity Day ever," he said softly.

"Do you really think now is a good time to be having a party? I mean, the grounder is out there."

"Grounders," he corrected. "If they were coming for what we had done, they would have done it as soon as he got home. We expected the lynch mob but they haven't come," he concluded, not sounding overly worried, but Clark's eyebrows drew together.

There was so much they didn't know about Earth and the Grounders. Why were they hunting them, how had they survived, were there others?

"Relax," Bellamy said. "I got security covered." He looked around the party. "Why don't you go get a drink? Have some of that fun you seem so sure you're up for."

Monty and Jasper came out of one of the tents holding up a large metal container to the cheers of the crowd. "Whoo! Yeah! Monty strikes again! Hey! We call this batch unity juice! Who's thirsty?"

"Have a drink," Bellamy suggested with an easy smile, the happiness in the voices and faces around the fire making him hopeful for once.

"I could use more than one."

"Then have more than one. Winter is coming and no matter how much food we have stored, it's going to be a tough few months," he stated what she already knew. "Have some fun while you still can. You deserve it."

Clarke smiled up at him, wanting to be able to reach out to him, wrap her arm around his waist openly, but they were still proceeding carefully with each other and the 100. She wanted to be sure they were solid with each other before letting the changing dynamic between them become widespread knowledge. Octavia, Raven and the guys who shared a dorm with them knew, but had managed to keep their mouths shut.

"Yeah. OK." She walked away from him but turned back. "So do you by the way."

"I'll have my fun scaring whichever of these idiots gets out of line," he said with a grin.

"All right."

-The 100-

Clarke got a drink and found Raven standing slightly to the side of a large group of the teens. One of the boys stepped up, holding a piece of metal from the drop ship like it were a podium. His impression of Chancellor Jaha was pretty good and earned catcalls and laughter.

"My friends, this is an historic Unity Day. Every year, we mark the moment our ancestors of the 12 stations joined to form The Ark, humanity's last hope for survival.

"Not for us!" one of the teens yelled, earning loud cheers.

"We sent 100 of our... most irresponsible, irritating and non-essential to the ground, and soon we will be joining them."

Clarke's smile faded and she shared a look of concern with Raven, even as the crowd roared their approval. There had been no communication from the Ark in weeks, no drop ships. They hadn't hidden that fact, but apparently many of the 100 were still under the belief that their parents, friends and family were still alive, safe on the Ark.

"Right," Miller said darkly. "If they do show up, it will be after we did all the work. Someone shut him up, this is our party, we don't need any speeches, especially not from-"

Raven scowled at the tall guard. "You shut up, Miller. No one's forcing you to be here."

Miller stared at Raven but walked away without further comment. The general consensus around camp was that Raven was brilliant, but also a bit scary.

"For 97 years, we have eked out an existence, hoping that someday our descendants would return to earth..." the Jaha impersonator continued.

"I need a drink," Raven declared, nodding to Clarke before disappearing into the crowd.

Clarke wandered towards Jasper and Monty, but paused by Finn who was watching the festivities with his arms crossed, no drink in his hand and a solemn look on his face.

"Don't tell me you don't like Unity Day," Clarke said, forcing friendliness into her voice. Things had been rocky with Finn since their last talk.

"Unity Day is a lie," he said piously. "The Ark only came together after the 13th Station was blown out of the sky. Just not the version of history we like to tell each other at parties."

"The Unity Day story gives people hope, though, and peace came out of that violence, and we could really use some hope, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but did there need to be violence at all?"

Clarke frowned and turned to watch as the camp cheered as one of their youngest members, a girl with long dark hair who didn't look older than 14, flushed but took center stage. "Long ago when the earth was on fire, 12 stations floated through space all alone. Then one day, Mir floated by Shenzhen, and they realized life would be better together. The other stations saw this, and they wanted to be together, too. When all the stations were joined, they called themselves the Ark..."

-The 100-

Bellamy positioned himself where he could watch the revelry and keep an eye on Clarke and Octavia. Seeing two of the younger members of their camp sneak towards the gate, Bellamy grabbed them and redirected them to a semi-private spot in the back of camp, still inside the wall.

He shook his head at their absurdly grateful looks. Everyone knew they were sweet on each other, and since there was no risk of pregnancy, due to the Ark implanting IUDs in all girls as soon as they became fertile and every five years after that until they were granted the right to have a baby.

Clarke had made a list of all the girls in camp and the timing. Everyone was safe for another year several for two or three, but after that they needed to be prepared to either prevent conception or have babies.

Clarke swore that there were plants they could use to prevent pregnancies, and Bellamy hoped they could find those particular plants in the spring, because he was in no way ready for the first of them to be born on the ground in over 100 years. Pregnancy and babies changed everything, a fact he knew well.

-The 100—

Clarke glanced up from where she was playing a drinking game that she didn't completely understand, to see Bellamy talking to Octavia, enjoying an approximation of the easy rapport they had shared on the Ark making a reappearance after weeks of cold shoulders and disapproving looks between the siblings.

He glanced up and nodded to acknowledged Clarke's look before turning back to his sister and walking with her to get a handful of berries from the food tent. He tried not to dwell on the fact that her friendly openness was getting a major boost from Jasper's latest brew.

The sound of Clarke's loud laughter and howl of protest at having lost again drew Miller's attention. Clarke was standing around a small table with Harper, Tim Bartlett, Stewart Lennox, and a few others.

"You're not gonna get this one," Harper challenged Clarke.

"Yes, I am. Whoo! All right," Clarke said joyously as she finally succeeded in landing the pebble in the cup.

"What do you know? Her highness can actually party. I like it," one of the boys declared with what looked like friendly respect in his eyes

"So what are you gonna do if the guard come down and commandeer Monty's still?" Clarke asked.

"Build another."

Clarke laughed. "All right."

Miller looked around for Bellamy, but didn't see him and decided to check in on Clarke himself. "Hey Clark, how you feeling?"

Clark tilted her head up at him, smiling happily. Her pupils were wide and her cheeks flushed, clearly tipsy if not full on drunk. "Good. Really good. I need to find Jasper to tell him this batch is excellent," she raved.

Miller smiled at her, extending a hand. "Come walk with me." Clark tilted her head at him clearly curious why he was asking, but she let him pull her out of her seat without question.

"The camp looks good. Do you think the food will really last through winter?" he asked.

"Yep," she agreed happily. "We won't be full, but we won't starve. You hunters will have to keep going out though. Not sure what game will be available, but anything will help. Maybe," she drawled, "you could catch some more wild pigs. They were delicious."

He smiled at her again, not used to seeing her so loose. She was relaxed, her steps uneven, her smile wide and easy.

"Miller," she exclaimed loudly, drawing attention. "You're handsome."

He chuckled. "Thanks, Clarke."

"No, I mean, really. You're handsome." She tilted her head, studying his face. "I wonder why I didn't notice before?"

"Maybe because Bellamy kinda blocked everyone else out," he suggested quietly.

"No, I didn't really notice Bellamy at first, just that he was an ass," she said blithely.

Miller laughed. "Yeah, well, I think you should go back to not noticing me if you don't want your boy damaging my face."

"He trusts you, you know?" she said, the alcohol removing her brain/mouth filter completely. "You do a good job, you're good for the camp, good for him. He needs to have someone to trust."

"That's why he has you, Princess," he deflected, still not used to seeing the respect in her gaze when she looked at him. Bellamy lead through strength and fear. Clarke lead through hope, and her eternal belief that they could do better than those who had come before them, on the ground and in space. The teens in camp knew that following the orders and doing their jobs would get them Bellamy's respect, but they had to be good people to have Clarke's respect. And that was a powerful motivator.

Seeing Raven, Miller beckoned the feisty brunette closer. "She's toasted, can you take her to her room?" Raven hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave the party just yet. There weren't many occasions for fun on Earth. "Just long enough for me to find Bellamy and send him in," he bargained.

"Yeah, sure," Raven agreed.

"Have you noticed how hot Miller is, Raven?"

Raven grinned wrapping her arm around Clarke's shoulders to steady her. "Can't say that I have. Take off the hat, Miller, let's see it." Miller grinned and whipped off his beanie for Raven's inspection. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Told ya," Clarke sing-songed gleefully making Raven laugh.

-The 100—

Bellamy found Clarke in his bed, half undressed and sound asleep, just minutes after Miller came to tell him Clarke had had too much and been sent to bed. Stripping off his clothes quickly he gathered her into his arms and covered them both with warm blankets.

A few hours later, a sound, once so familiar but now sounding desperately out of place, disturbed the camp. Bellamy shook Clarke awake and pulled on pants and shoes quickly before darting out into the camp and looking to the sky. A ship was coming down, but it wasn't too close.

Several other kids popped up outside the door to their dorms and Clark brushed against his side, wrapped in a blanket as she looked up, seeing the telltale streak of a ship entering the atmosphere.

"They might be alive up there after all," Bellamy concluded darkly, already assembling a search party in his mind. He needed to talk to Clarke; this was a debate they'd been able to avoid since neither of them had really believed that anyone from the Ark was coming after weeks of radio silence.

They needed to decide where they stood and he knew she would argue that the camp should decide, either as a whole or as individuals. To rejoin the Ark, or declare their independence. And if they did refuse to accept the Council's authority – did they live separately but peacefully, or would the Ark attack them? Most of the camp had at least one parent up there, they all had friends still in space, the decision would not be easy for any of them.

Bellamy glanced down at Clarke and saw the naked hope in her eyes. Her mother, the woman she had loved, then hated, then mourned might not be dead. They might not be alone. Bellamy wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, but it was clear Clarke was hoping for a happy ending.

Her eyes met his, wide with a mix of hope and fear. She wasn't ignorant to the potential hazard the Ark posed to them, nor the possible benefits of their arrival. But mostly her emotions were personal. She wanted her mother to be safe. To be near. No matter his own misgivings he sought to comfort her. "Like I said, best Unity Day ever."

She smiled, but her eyes jerked up again as an explosion sounded.

"Was that from The Exodus ship?" one of the teens asked.

Clarke's hand clenched on his arm. "Wait," she said, her voice full of dread as she tracked the ship as it came closer to the ground. "Too fast." She gasped painfully as reality set in. "No parachute? Something's wrong."

Most of the remaining 100 watched as the Exodus Ship, the only sign of hope from their former home crashed into the ground, sending up a burst of bright orange-red flame followed by a mushroom cloud of dust and smoke.

"No," Clarke whispered, falling to her knees. Bellamy sank down beside her, hauling her up and carrying her back inside.

Raven followed, looking worried. She liked Clarke's mother, respected her, and had hoped that maybe, just maybe if and when the Ark joined them on the ground she'd be able to get to know Abby better, and maybe see what a real mother was like.

"Raven, can you stay with her?" Bellamy asked hoarsely. Raven nodded. "Be ready to go at first light. We'll need you to tell us whatever you can about the ship."

Bellamy looked at Clarke, lying curled in his (their) bed, her face too pale to be healthy.

-The 100—

Bellamy stood on the edge of the burnt crater the Exodus ship had made upon impact. There were no survivors. Nothing alive could have survived the fire. A large search and rescue party had left camp to track down the ship, and were now scattered around the crater and the half mile long trail of debris it had left in its wake. The ship had obviously been coming apart before it hit the ground.

Bellamy looked at Clarke as she stood silently over yet another burnt skeleton. If her mother had been on the ship, there would be no confirmation from the remains. No clothing, hair or flesh had been left.

"Clarke shouldn't be out here," Finn said from where he stood near Raven who was looking under rent pieces of metal.

"Her mom could have been on the ship," Raven said unnecessarily, her tone bland. Since her breakup with Finn, she'd tried to keep control of her emotions around him, but it was still hard. Especially when he looked at Clarke like he'd just like to sweep her into his arms and hold the blonde girl close to keep her safe from the world. The way Raven had once craved. "She's looking for answers. You want to help her, find me the black box, hard drives, anything that will explain why the ship crashed."

Bellamy nodded, hoping they could find some answers, salvage something from this disaster. He ignored his own annoyance with Spacewalker over his continued interest and attentions to Clarke. Morale had been high the night before, but now everyone was quiet, the reality of their situation finally setting in. Alone on a hostile planet, and no one was coming to help. "Stay sharp. We have no idea if this is Grounder territory or not. Gather only the supplies and scrap that we need most. We'll come back for more if we can."

"Maybe if you hadn't of taken one of the Grounders and tortured him, we could be working with them to survive winter," Finn said accusingly.

"Why they're killing us doesn't matter anymore. It's our job to be ready when they come at us again," Bellamy replied unapologetically. "We're on our own now."

"You'd be dead if Bellamy hadn't carried you back through the woods then went back out into that storm and drug the Grounder back to camp with him. Show a little respect," Raven criticized her ex- boyfriend. Her gaze caught Clarke as she moved to a fuel tank, looking at the red liquid leaking out. "Oh! Clarke, stop!"

Raven jogged over, telling Clarke and the others that the rocket fuel, hydrazine, was highly unstable in its non-solid form. "If this stuff meets fire, we're all pink mist." Raven dipped a rock into the red liquid and lobbed it towards a still burning piece of debris. "Fire in the hole!" she shouted just moments before it exploded.

"Nice shot," Clarke said with a ghost of a smile, her eyes still appearing hollow and haunted.

"We need to clear the area," Raven instructed, looking to Bellamy to get it done.

"OK, then," he said. "We move in formation, no straggling, weapons hot. We have to get back before dark."

Bellamy waited until Clarke was beside him before falling in line, picking their way through the debris back to camp.

He watched her carefully, her silent forward facing regard seeming almost like an armor against the world. Clarke was actually fairly good at being alone, she'd spent a year in solitary confinement on the Ark, their bid to keep their secret. Even the guards had not been allowed to talk to her.

Bellamy had been in his own form of solitary, having grown up from age 5 with his sister, he had suddenly been alone when Octavia was arrested and his mother floated. He'd had ways to distract himself from his anger and anguish, but they had settled into his soul, changing him. It was that year spent alone that had allowed him to manifest his new persona on the ground. Strong, harsh, unflinching, and unapologetic. Somehow now, after weeks on the ground, with his sister back (more or less) and Clarke at his side he was finally integrating who he had been and who he had become.

He wasn't unaware that Clarke had also been changed by her last year on the Ark. The wonder and confusion in Wells eyes when he'd watched her on the ground said it all. But somehow she was still good, open, kind, compassionate. She made him want to be better.

He'd wondered about it, how some of the 100 knew each other and others didn't. Atom had explained most of it, along with letting him in on most of the delinquents' crimes.

While the other prisoners had taken meals together had been allowed out of their cells to socialize and get some light exercise, Clarke had remained alone, locked up in her cell. Small groups of 10-12 delinquents talked and laughed, fought and yelled, getting to know each other, forming friendships and enemies. It was how Monty and Jasper had remained close. How Murphy had been able to make friends that had followed him even after landing on Earth. How Octavia had met and gotten to know her peers, had her first fist fight, and earned her reputation of being angry and hot-headed.

Most of the prisoners were allowed visitors, once every two weeks for an hour. It was how Raven and Finn had maintained their relationship. But not Octavia, her confinement was as much a punishment to Bellamy (and anyone else who might have helped hid her). And not Clarke, not only had she not been allowed out of her cell, her only visitor was her mother, who was brought to her cell for a visit once a month to minimize Clarke's interactions with the guards and staff.

She'd talked to Bellamy briefly about how hard it had been, being locked up those first few months, then she'd seemed to settle in, and wrapped the solitude around her like a balm. Being on the ground with so many people around her, the noise, the competing interests, had been tough on her, but all that time alone had made her even more set in her ways. She'd watch her father pay the ultimate price for his principals, and she followed, deliberately, proudly, in his footsteps.

For the first half mile trek back to camp from the crash site, he left her alone in her own thoughts, then he stepped forward and took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly, but not saying anything. Nothing he could say would change things, but he hoped that she would accept his support and accept that while no one on the ground knew her mother the way she had, that she was not alone.

Clarke squeezed his hand shifting the hold so their fingers were intertwined, stepping closer to him, but maintaining her silence.

It was enough.

* * *

Words 3913

_Someone asked what I plan to do with the Ark… I have to say, I haven't felt connected to the Ark characters, so writing them has been unappealing, but after last night's ep I might be able to do something... I do kinda like just leaving them and their fate unknown, but I may bring something from there back into the story too. No idea yet. Just leaving it open. If anyone reading this has read any of my longer stories for other fandoms, I have plans, timelines, and notes for days… for this I've started a tracking sheet for the delinquents, and have notes, but no timeline…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The weeks leading up to the crash had been marked by a lack of Grounder sightings, but now with The 100 taking multiple trips to the crash site, they'd run into them in the woods twice in one week.

Apparently all the humans in the area were stocking up for winter. The first time they'd seen what had looked like a hunting party high on a ridge and been able to take cover in the forest, several hundred yards away.

The second time, Clarke was with Bellamy, Octavia, Derek and several others when they'd come across two Grounders unexpectedly at a creek they commonly visited.

The Grounders were clearly in the territory Bellamy had declared and marked, and that had, to the best of their knowledge, been respected by the Grounders. Until now.

The male Grounder sprung in front of the female, his look panicked. Bellamy acted instinctively as well, stepping forward, putting his body between the threat and Octavia after pushing Clarke behind him.

Clarke pressed close to his back, and when the Grounder didn't immediately attack, fumbling with his bow and arrow, it was Clarke's hand on his arm, not Octavia's shout to wait, that made him pause.

"Wait. Just… wait, he's not attacking. He's protecting her," Clarke said, not bothering to pitch her voice low. Either the Grounders understood English and her words would hopefully give the young warrior pause, or they didn't and it didn't matter if they heard her or not. "He's young, probably our age. They're just kids."

Bellamy scowled and sidestepped to keep his body in front of hers when she tried to move clear of him to face the Grounder pair. "We mean you no harm, as long as you don't try to harm us. You can go. We won't follow," her voice was soothing, swelling with emotion, wanting desperately for them to understand to walk away, for it to be a chance at having something positive between them, humans born in space and only recently returned to Earth, and the people who'd survived 97 years of nuclear fallout on the ground.

As the Grounder pair scrambled to their feet, slinging packs over their backs, Clarke saw that the girl was pregnant, still in the first half of her pregnancy, the baby bump was plainly visible. "Wait," she called out, startling Bellamy and the rest of their group. "You can get water here, we'll move on." The Grounders paused, appearing wary, but didn't retreat farther than the tree line. "We've declared this as our territory," Clarke said, pitching her voice to reach them, hoping they understood. "You should head west," she pointed towards Mt. Weather, and frowned seeing the despair in their faces.

Octavia looked from Clarke to the strangers, not understanding what the issue was, but wanting to help. "Or you could head south, past the two big bends in the river, then walk east," she called earning a scowl from her brother.

They didn't reply, didn't even acknowledge the words, but Clarke was certain they understood. And she knew that for some reason, they did not want to go into Grounder territory.

As the teens backed away from the stream, Bellamy pulled Clarke aside. "What was that about?"

"She was pregnant," Clarke said with a frown.

"So?"

"So they probably need to refill their water containers. Dehydration and pregnancy do not mix. And they were afraid of going west," she said thoughtfully.

"Maybe they're not from the same group of Grounders we've encountered before," Bellamy said tightly, processing the thought that they might be surrounded by hostile groups.

"Maybe," Clarke said, her eyes unfocused, her mind analyzing the situation.

-The 100—

The beauty and childlike joy that had accompanied the first snow did not hold up when the first big winter storm hit them. Freezing rain, sleet and snow pelted them for days, burying the camp under three feet of snow, ice and slush. The cold was nearly unbearable even to the teens from the stations on the Ark that had not had continuous power.

Frostbite and hypothermia became a reality, as did trench foot, which led to a new team dedicated to drying clothing and shoes and distributing them to the guards and hunters, while the kids who stayed in camp huddled under blankets in their beds only half dressed.

To conserve resources and reduce boredom and temper flare-ups, Bellamy pushed for earlier bedtimes and later wakeups. Sleeping more meant less cold related injuries (thanks to their warm earthen dorms), less caloric requirements and less fighting.

But despite their best planning and efforts, winter hung on for several weeks longer than they'd anticipated. As their food stores dwindled, everyone but the guards and hunters had their rations reduced. With the possible exception of Bellamy and the older girls in camp, most of them were still growing and filling out, changing from teens to adults, and Clarke worried that going hungry could adversely affect their development. To try to stave off the worst of it, the tree sap they'd gathered in the fall was diluted into water, and they learned to make soup which filled them up longer and made their limited food supply go farther.

From December to early March, The 100 hunkered down, then as the days began to get longer and the snowpack began to melt, they emerged from their shelters, leaner than they had been when they'd landed on Earth six months earlier, but also stronger and more resilient.

They'd been sent to die, faced a hostile Earth and violent, unwelcoming neighbors, but they were still standing. They had survived the winter, more or less. They'd lost five more, three to a fever that had swept through camp, sickening about a third of them over the course of three weeks, and two while hunting. One had been mauled to death by wild pigs, the other had gotten lost and died of exposure before he had been found.

They'd grown closer as a group over the long, cold winter months, locked in their dorms and a tent they fortified to withstand the cold where they socialized and took their meals. No drop ships had come during those cold months, and they hadn't seen any Grounders either. They'd seen trails, tracks, but it appeared that surviving the winter took precedence over killing off the newcomers.

As flowers bloomed and trees put on leaves, they began sending larger groups into the forest to forage for food. On one such expedition, Clarke had only wandered maybe 30 feet from her closest companion when she saw them.

Octavia, her face streaked with tears and dirt, and the Grounder that had taken her in the Fall, and been taken (and tortured) in return. He had a firm grip on Octavia's arm, and he didn't seem at all surprised to see Clarke.

Clarke pulled out her knife holding it to her side, at the ready, but she knew she couldn't take him in a fight. He was big, solid muscle, and obviously a time tested warrior. But she wouldn't go down without a fight. "Octavia?" Clarke called out.

"I'm OK," she sniffled.

Clarke never took her gaze off the large fierce looking Grounder. Even without his face mask on he was terrifying. "Let her go."

The grounder regarded her solemnly, then stepped forward towing Octavia with him. Clarke stumbled back then held her ground. "I said let her go. Octavia said you helped her before. If that's true, you don't want to-"

"He's bringing me back, Clarke. He doesn't want me, you don't have to convince him," Octavia said plaintively.

Clarke looked from Octavia to the Grounder, her eyes wide, shock clear on her face. "He-" The man had reacted to the sullen teenagers words, a tightening of his expression, a look of regret and determination.

"His name is Lincoln," Octavia said in a flat tone. "Lincoln, meet Clarke. Oh wait you already have."

Clarke grimaced, the discomfort over what they'd done to save Finn still not easy for her to accept. "We… I'm sorry," Clarke said simply, forcing her gaze to meet his. There were no excuses, no justifications. They'd done it to save Finn, and they'd succeeded, but it had torn away part of their souls. It had also taught them a valuable lesson, or it had taught Clarke and Bellamy a lesson anyway. Miller still seemed to think all Grounders should be shot on sight, no questions asked.

There was a steep cost to survival, and a steeper cost for leadership. There was an old saying, from the time their people had lived on the ground before the bombs: Freedom is not free. Clarke hadn't really understood what it meant until the moment she'd met Bellamy's eyes and nodded, giving her assent to torture a man.

Lincoln stepped forward again, his eyes on Clarke, darting to her knife only once. She straightened her back and kept her gaze on him until he was five feet away. Lincoln released his grip on Bellamy's sister and turned and ran back into the tree line, disappearing into the forest in seconds.

Clarke rushed to Octavia, checking her for injuries and finding none, hugging the younger girl. Octavia was stiff at first, then sobbed her body softening and sagging, pressing her face into Clarke's shoulder.

"I messed everything up," Octavia whimpered, and Clarke could only hope she was being melodramatic and Octavia hadn't done anything to upset the Grounders so they would come after her or The 100. "And now you'll tell Bellamy, and he'll be so mad." Clarke hesitated, then stroked her hand down Octavia's long dark hair. "Clarke?"

"If you tell me what that was about, and how long you've been sneaking off to meet him-"

"Lincoln."

"To meet Lincoln, and what the hell is going on, then I'll decide if Bellamy needs to know."

Octavia looked so hopeful, it made Clarke's heart clench. Since she'd made her decision to be with Bellamy, she'd become entrenched in the siblings' relationship, and it wasn't always (was rarely) a good place to be.

-The 100—

A week later, Bellamy was none the wiser about his sister's heartbreak, or who had caused it. Octavia had seemingly rededicated herself to the camp, helping out with medical and clothing repairs.

Jasper had been busy over the prior few weeks, scouring his brain and everyone elses who'd taken chemistry, organic chemistry and history of warfare on the Ark. The result had Raven busily refilling dud bullets with new gun powder alongside Jasper and Monty.

"Once I figured it out, it was simple," Jasper enthused. "Potassium nitrate, sulfur, and charcoal are all we needed, but how to get them?"

Monty smiled and Raven rolled her eyes playfully. Jasper had told the story dozens of times since he'd succeeded, becoming something of a folk hero around camp. For Raven's credits, she'd take the gun powder, but it was Monty's knowledge of plants and circuits that had helped them weather the winter. Without the solar panels, and new wind turbine, along with the drop ship battery that they'd supercharged, they would have lost all the circuitry in the drop ship to the cold, and been hard pressed to dry clothes consistently. But unlike Jasper, Monty seemed happy to remain in the background, contributing, but not receiving accolades for his work.

"There's no more stump remover in the store in Berryville, so we'll have to get started making more potassium nitrate from urine, to be sure we don't run out…" Jasper rambled as he and Monty exited the tent, making Raven grimace. There was a reason she hadn't liked chemistry.

She smiled and shook her head, using a roughhewed funnel to pour more gunpowder into a bullet.

"What are you doing in here, Raven?" Finn asked, coming into the tent. "It's the first day of spring. Our first Spring Equinox on the ground in almost a hundred years," he enthused. He drew up short seeing what she was doing. "And you're making bullets."

"We have to be ready to fight, right?" Raven said easily, focused on her task. Her heart still ached for Finn, or because of him, she wasn't quite sure, but she'd done her best to move on.

"Or we could try talking to them."

Raven looked up, unsure of his tone. "They seem to prefer stabbing," she said flatly, still haunted by how close she'd come to losing him entirely. As much as it had hurt her to break up with him, he was still her family, the only family she'd ever really had. She smiled as a memory popped into her mind. Jasper saying that they had each other now. Maybe he'd needed to believe that then, but she did believe it now. "Violence is the only thing those people understand."

"You know, they could say the same thing about us," Finn said in a reasonable tone that put her back up. It felt like he was lecturing her, or feeling her out for something. Either way she looked at him carefully, wondering where the conversation was going. "If we keep going on this way, we'll never stop digging graves."

Her large dark eyes looked at him solemnly. "You didn't see him, Finn. It didn't matter what we did to him. He was ready to let you die."

"He was protecting himself," Finn said.

"Why are you defending him?"

Finn looked away. "Never mind. I hope you know what you're doing," he said, exiting the tent.

"I know what I'm doing," Raven muttered, going back to opening and filling bullets.

-The 100—

That night around the campfire, Finn watched Clarke standing with Bellamy and some of the others. They were together now, openly. The close confines of winter and their inability to sneak away to spend time together had ushered in a public outing. Not that it had been done with fanfare. Just one day they'd left their dorm holding hands and hadn't let go.

It burned at Finn that Clarke was with him. She was kind, smart, compassionate, and he was a violent, power hungry dictator. Finn didn't get it. But he still believed that Clarke would take the opportunity he had created.

As soon as Bellamy was distracted with some of the other kids, Finn made his move. Walking up to Clarke he took her arm and tried to lead her away from the others, but she quickly pulled away from him. "Hey, don't," she shook her head warningly.

Finn's jaw tightened. She didn't have a problem with Bellamy dragging her around by the arm, might as well be by the hair, the message was clear either way. Clarke was his.

"What is it?" she asked, looking at him warily.

"Sorry," he apologized. He'd been raised with manners. "Let's take a walk."

Clarke balked. "Did something happen?

"I need you to come with me, but I can't tell you why, OK?" He gestured towards the gate and Clarke frowned, crossing her arms.

"Finn, tell my why. I'm not leaving camp with you after dark for no reason."

He stepped closer to her, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets to keep from touching her. "I set up a meeting with the Grounders."

Her mouth fell open, her eyes wide with shock. "A meeting? I don't understand. With who? How?" She knew Finn often slipped out of camp alone, breaking their rules, but Bellamy allowed it because Finn often found things that could help the camp on his jaunts.

"I was just with the grounder that we had in the drop ship. His name is Lincoln."

"Wait a second. He spoke to you?" Clarke asked incredulously. She'd never heard him utter a word though she knew he spoke English from Octavia.

"It's not important. If we want to live in peace-"

"Finn, we can't live in peace with people who've done nothing but kill us," she interrupted.

"Can you think of a better way to stop the bloodshed?"

"Yeah. With our guns. If we're not easy targets, they'll back off. They're not suicidal, just homicidal. We can't live together, but maybe we can live peaceably, separately."

"You know that won't work, there are limited resources in this area, we're always going to be in competition with them, and you know that if Bellamy or Miller find Grounders in our area, they'll shoot first, no questions asked."

Clarke looked obstinate.

"You really want a war? Because at this rate, that's what's coming," he said. "Look. I know it's a long shot, but this is our world now, and I think we can do better than the first time around." He could see that she wasn't convinced. Her relationship with Bellamy meant she spent more time with the guards now and being who she was looked at them in the best light, instead of as the thugs Finn believed them most to be. "I trust him," Finn said sincerely.

"I don't," Clarke said. She knew Lincoln wasn't a savage. He'd rescued Octavia, treated her injuries, and grown to care about her. He drew, and he wasn't indiscriminately violent. But he had still locked Octavia up, stabbed Finn, and he was a member of the group that had killed several of The 100. And that was a point worth remembering. The Grounders were perfectly adapted to the Earth, they knew it better than The 100 would for years still. They had killed members of The 100 and would likely kill more. Unless they could make some sort of piece. "But if we go, we have to bring backup," she agreed reluctantly.

"No way," Finn denied, shaking his head. "We're not bringing guns. Those weren't the terms, and if we're gonna do this, we got to give it a fair shot."

Clarke looked reluctant, but, after a long tense moment, agreed. "OK."

Finn smiled, relaxing his shoulders. "OK."

"I'll get my pack, and I'll meet you at the gate," she said with a forced smile.

Clarke hurried away from Finn, mentally rehearsing arguments to make to Bellamy. Finding him near their dorm, she pulled him into the shadows. Bellamy grinned and folded him into his arms, kissing her mouth then drifting down her neck.

"Hey," she said, her hands clutching his arms, her mind on other things. She jerked away from him as his hands slipped under her shirt. "OK, no, not what I came here for. I need to talk to you."

"We can talk," he said, trying to gather her back into his embrace.

"I'm serious," she said, and her words finally penetrated his mind.

"You always are, so talk," he said, releasing her.

She looked down then up, deciding instantly to go with honestly. "Finn's set up a meeting with the Grounders. I'm leaving to go talk to them."

Bellamy stepped back, then forward, capturing her arm in a hold that made it clear she wasn't going anywhere. "Because you figure that impaling people on spears is code for "let's be friends"? Have you lost your damn mind?"

She pressed her hand to his chest, the slid it down to his waist, closing her fist around the soft fabric of his shirt. "I think it might be worth a shot. I mean, we do have to live with these people."

"They'll probably gut you, string you up as a warning," he said, wanting to scare her out of the idea. Beyond locking her up in the drop ship or knocking her out, he knew he couldn't stop her if she really wanted to go.

"Well, that's why I'm here. I need you to follow us, be my backup."

Bellamy's nostrils flared as he stared down into her face, so sincere, so hopeful. And he felt himself lose ground quickly. "Does Finn know about this?"

"Finn doesn't need to know. He said the terms of the meeting are for no weapons, so you'll have to stay hidden, but, Bellamy, bring guns."

He regarded her for a long moment, fighting back his instinctive need to keep her safe, but knowing that anything they could learn about the Grounders would help them in the long run. He didn't think there was any real chance for peace, but neither would he nix the possibility, no matter how remote. He slipped his hand into her hair and yanked her towards him fastening his mouth on hers in a desperate kiss. "You are fucking insane, you know that?"

She leaned into him. "We're all a little crazy."

He shook his head and forced himself to let her go. "Clarke," he called her back when she stepped towards the door of their dorm to get her pack. "Don't get yourself killed, but if you do I will drag you back from hell, regardless."

"Like Orpheus and Eurydice," she said, knowing his affection for Roman history and myth. "But unlike Orpheus, don't jump the gun…" she cautioned, disappearing into the darkness.

-The 100—

Approaching the bridge where the meeting was set to be held, Clarke saw Octavia and knew how Finn had set up the meeting. "I guess you and Lincoln made up?"

Octavia looked away, not willing to share any information, and Clarke tensed. She'd kept Octavia's secret from Bellamy, and been repaid with more deceit.

Lincoln appeared from the forest across the bridge and ran towards them, scooping Octavia up into his arms. Clark looked to the side, breathing a little easier when she saw Bellamy standing beside Raven and Jasper. His gaze met hers, burning with anger and she knew if they lived through this he was going to have more than a few harsh words for his sister.

When he looked away from her, but not back towards Octavia, she realized he must have brought others as well, and hoped that everyone would have cool heads, because the Grounders' leader had arrived. Clarke hid her surprise that it was a woman but allowed herself to smile in wonder that the Grounders rode horses.

-The 100—

Words 3672

Just a few show observations I have to mention:

1) Did anyone see the river under the bridge they blew up? In no way would the lack of a bridge stop the Grounders from crossing that river. At all.

2) Bellamy waiting for Finn to catch up before they ran back to camp after the botched negotiation on said bridge.

3) If Lincoln really cared about Octavia, wouldn't have have offered more information and less of a cryptic warning about the "Mountain Men"

4) Where the hell did the drop ship land? By Mt Weather, but they went to Berryville for supplies, which puts them (in District 11!, kidding) west of Mt. Weather, but Bellamy and Clarke walked into Washington DC (the Lincoln memorial) to the FEMA shelter, which would have been right through the grounder territory. Get it straight writers.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

"Tell me exactly that happened from the beginning," Bellamy said with barely controlled rage as they gathered in the drop ship after the disastrous meeting with the Grounders on the bridge.

Clarke and Raven were downstairs, Raven having scraped up her knee when she'd fallen over a rock on their way back to camp.

"Jasper screwed it up, that's-"

"Shut up, Octavia! I will not tell you again. You could have gotten killed, and maybe that's your choice. But you have no right to endanger the rest of this camp."

"Like you really-" Octavia started, all aggression, no remorse or regret.

Bellamy glanced at Miller who stepped forward and wrapped his hand around Octavia's mouth pulling her back into his chest to restrain her. "Bite me and I will retaliate," Miller said calmly.

"And I won't stop him," Bellamy said with a chillingly cold voice that Octavia had never heard directed at her.

Bellamy pointed at Finn. "You start."

Finn told the story of how he saw Octavia sneaking out of camp and decided to follow her, assuming that she was going to meet the grounder since he knew she had helped the man escape.

"Then what? Who suggested the meeting?"

"I asked him to take me to someone who could make peace, but… he… he was the one who suggested our leaders meet. We knew you wouldn't be interested in peace, so it had to be Clarke," Finn explained.

Bellamy paused, his eyes narrowing. "Did you suggest Clarke as an alternative or did he?"

Finn hesitated, his eyes going to Octavia's. "Octavia said you would never go for it, and Lincoln, the Grounder, said 'not your brother.' I knew he meant Clarke," Finn said with growing dismay.

"Keep going," Bellamy demanded, anger and fear burning in his stomach, even as relief swept over him as Clarke and Raven camp up the ladder to join them. The idea of her being out of sight after nearly losing her made him unease.

The story unfolded, the trip through the forest, Lincoln emerging from the trees and running to meet them across the bridge.

"He stopped you from going to talk to their leader, he only wanted Clarke to go forward," Bellamy said absolutely. "They wanted Clarke. It wasn't a meeting, it was a kidnapping."

Bellamy turned away from Finn, knowing if he kept looking at the spacewalker he would punch him, and one punch might not be enough to ease the sense of dread that had settled deep in his stomach. His gaze searched Clarke for injuries again, needed to see her to believe she was safe.

"When they attacked-"

"Jasper shot first," Finn exploded, needing to believe he was right to set up the meeting.

"They broke your terms, not only did they come with weapons but they had assassins in the trees," Bellamy seethed, glaring at Finn, but moving over to tower over his sister.

Her gaze was no longer so certain, so self righteous. "Miller is going to remove his hand from your mouth. You will answer my questions, without attitude. Is that clear?" He waited until she nodded and Miller released her. "What did you tell them about Clarke?"

"I didn't, I-"

"The truth, Octavia!"

"I only talked to Lincoln, I never even saw any others," she said sullenly.

"What. Did. You. Say."

"Nothing he didn't already know. Clarke is our doctor, I might have said how she trained with her mother, the diseases we could cure on the Ark. They don't have much, no technology, limited medicine. He was… curious."

"He was gathering intel, which you handed over without a single thought about how it could be used against us," he corrected her with barely restrained fury at her stupidity.

"I trust him!"

"And you think he's earned that trust? You think that just because he hasn't killed you, he won't kill any of us? Clarke? Me? Your friends? Not that you have friends here anymore." Octavia looked upset, but Bellamy didn't relent. "What else?"

"He wanted to know about you. You and Clarke. But he already knew. We all know, he saw it along with me, Miller, Drew, even Raven, weeks ago when you tortured him!" Octavia tried to mitigate her responsibility. "You and Clarke, you're a team." Octavia trembled. "You care about her. She's important to you."

"If it was all a set up, why not take her as soon as we arrived?" Finn questioned in a last ditch effort to salvage his view of events.

"Maybe they wanted to see what we, what Clarke, had to say before they took her and tortured her, killed her," Bellamy said, making Finn flinch and Clarke to pale. "They were taking our measure."

Bellamy paused to think, then looked at his sister with disappointment. Octavia felt the weight of it like a stone around her heart. "Take her out of here, Drew. Get Derek to watch her. If she tries to sneak out again, tie her up."

Octavia gasped. "You can't be serious, Bell? You think you can keep me locked up forever?"

Bellamy ignored her, his shoulders tense until she was gone and the hatch closed behind them. "I'm done trying to figure out their game. We can't live with them, but we're not going anywhere either, and starting a war is not in our best interest," Bellamy stated the facts grimly.

"We can co-exist," Finn said.

"Maybe, maybe not. They seem to think we've already declared war," Clarke said anxiously, relaying what the grounder's leader had said about the flares and their territory.

"They have territory. We will declare our own. We'll mark it, make it clear. If they respect our territory, we'll respect theirs. That's the best we can do."

"We can make peace, work with them-" Finn argued.

"We aren't going to beg for forgiveness for offenses we didn't know we were making," Bellamy interrupted, referencing what Clarke had told him about the accusations Anya had laid at their feet. "We come at this from a position of strength. We're not going to pick a fight, but we sure as hell will finish anything they start."

He said it firmly, his tone advising that no one object, but he still looked to Clarke, wanting her approval. She released a deep breath and nodded.

"We need to replenish our food supply," Bellamy said, settling down to work out the details.

"Quickly, not only do we need to eat, we actually need to increase rations for a few weeks to allow people to regain what they lost over winter," Clarke asserted.

"We'll do the best we can," Bellamy said, knowing that their resources- food and people, were going to be stretched tight in order to keep them fed and safe. "We'll divide the hunters and scavengers, half for food to supplement our stores, half to shore up our defenses. We need more ammo, and we need a better perimeter defense, farther out. We don't want the fight coming to us. They're better on the ground than we are-"

"And in the trees," Miller interjected.

"So we get better," Bellamy said as if it would be that simple. "Work on camouflage, endurance, running, climbing, navigating, and fighting. They have us on brute strength and numbers, so we need to be smarter, more strategic. We'll make it be in their best interests to learn to live with us."

-The 100—

The next day, Raven approached Clarke in the med bay, waiting until a girl with an infected cut on her hand was treated. "Hey, your knee feeling OK?" Clarke asked.

"Yeah, no biggie. Listen, I have an idea of where we can find more bullets, and maybe more medical supplies. Actually, three ideas."

"Great, take it to Bellamy, he-"

"No. I was kinda thinking you could talk to him," Raven said with a bright, smile that also seemed to mock Clarke silently.

"Why tell me? You're certainly not afraid of him like most of the people in this camp," Clarke questioned.

"No, I'm not afraid, but neither do I have your skill set," Raven said with a sly smirk.

"Medicine?"

"Jackass whisperer."

Clarke snorted out a laugh which set Raven off, until both girls were clutching their stomachs and feeling the ache of the muscles by the time they sobered up.

"OK, let's hear it, and don't spare me any details, such as why you think Bellamy won't go for it," Clarke instructed once they'd gathered together their wits again.

"It's a good idea, solid. But it has risk. There are three sites. I worked out the math with Monty and Jasper, all should have been far enough from the bomb impact sites to not have been obliterated, and from what everyone has said the Grounders stick to their territory."

"That doesn't mean there aren't more Grounders out there, with other territories," Clarke cautioned thinking of Anya's words about other's trying to take the Grounders out.

"They're coming for us, we have to be ready."

Clarke nodded, she agreed with Raven and Bellamy but she wanted for there to be another way other than continued violent conflicts that would lead to war if they didn't figure out some way to negotiate. They couldn't win a war, their only hope was to deter the start of it. "Where?"

"Fort Detrick, north of the FEMA shelter you and Bellamy found. It's 40 miles East North East from here. They should have been outside the blast radius, but too close for the people to survive long with the radiation."

"So if they died off fast enough…" Clarke mused.

"There should be supplies. Bullets, guns, even grenades. It wasn't a ground war, people just pushed buttons from the safety of their bunkers thousands of miles away and destroyed the world," Raven said, repeating what they'd all learned in history classes on the Ark. "Fort Detrick was not just a military base, Clarke, they were a medical research facility." Clarke's eyes lit up. "Thought that might interest you."

Raven went on to explain that the other site was South West of camp. "Woodstock Armory. There was only one town near it. They might have supplies that weren't touched. Infantry were stationed there. We could find weapons, boots, gear. It's worth a shot."

"And the third site?" Clarke asked.

"Quantico. It's the farthest. And it would have been secure from looting at the time the bomb fell. It was a security site, they'd likely have weapons and they had a hospital, so that means medical supplies."

"How far?"

"Seventy miles," Raven said, and Clarke frowned. "There's another advantage."

"Well? Let's hear it."

"If the Grounders avoid the destroyed cities, we might be able to find a safe place to go near Quantico. It's on a river, which means fish, a year round food supply. And by an old forested area, which means animals. Food, water, possibly no Grounders. And according to Jasper and Monty's friend Jack, there were rumors that Quantico had an extensive underground facility."

"There could be higher radiation levels in the cities," Clarke mused.

"The bases should have kits and tools to measure radiation. It's worth a shot."

Clarke frowned, something in what Raven had said sparking her memory. "I think… you said Woodstock, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"One of the books we found… it was a travel guide," Clarke said and Raven snorted at the idea of having time to travel. Or someplace to travel to. The people who'd lived before the bombs had no idea how good they'd had it, but they'd thrown it all away. "I remember something about a large underground cavern not far from there."

"Add it to the list," Raven said with a smirk. "I'm sure you can convince Bellamy that one more destination is not unreasonable."

"You really think I can convince him? To send three teams out, for a minimum of three days for the closer locations, four or five days to get to Quantico-"

"We'll be down 12 to 15 people and three to six guns. I know it's a lot. But we need this." Raven looked at Clarke until the blonde girl nodded. "And Clarke, I want to go." Clarke frowned. "I need to get out of camp, get away from Finn for awhile. I need this."

Clarke's heart ached a little for her friend, hating that she had played a part in breaking Raven's heart. "I thought… I thought you were doing better, you and Stewart…"

"Yeah," Raven drug out the word. "Ever heard the phrase the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?" Clarke's expression said she had clearly not heard that expression before. "Didn't really work. And frankly, he's cute, and he's fun, but he doesn't have a serious bone in his body, and I realized…"

"He's kinda like Finn," Clarke finished recalling how Finn had been determined to have fun no matter how serious the situation on the ground, from flirting when they'd been dropped on the wrong peak (which had turned out to be a blessing since by their best guess, Mt. Weather was the Grounder's home base), to floating in the water while tracking down an injured Jasper.

"It's a good plan," Clarke affirmed, referring to Raven's proposed expeditions. "If we are going to move camp, we need to do it in the next few months. No later."

"I agree, so go convince your jackass that I'm right, maybe soften him up first with some 'private time.'"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that," Clarke said haughtily.

"What? Like you two don't go at it all the freaking time," Raven said.

Clarke gasped then closed her mouth and busied herself with her supplies. Raven slept 16 feet from where Clarke and Bellamy did, it was inevitable that the other girl knew the (literal) ins and outs of their relationship. Clarke just didn't like the lack of privacy.

Their dorms had served their purpose, keeping them warm and alive through a cold winter, but it was in their best long term interests to build more complex and individual housing if and when they moved camp.

-The 100—

Bellamy approached Miller at the camp's wall. "No sign of Grounders?"

"Nothing."

"They're coming, we just have no idea of when."

"Yeah, but the waiting is killing people," Miller said. "Living in a constant state of readiness is making everyone crazy tense."

"There's nothing to do for it, they will come, and we have to be prepared," Bellamy said gravely. "Stay sharp."

-The 100—

Bellamy went out with Clarke and a small group to gather some edible plants and herbs that afternoon, returning to find the camp in an uproar.

"What the hell is going on?" Bellamy roared, moving Clarke into the center of camp far from the wall and possible attack.

"Murphy is back," Miller said simply. "He tripped one of the trip wires, he's in bad shape. We didn't know what to do so we brought him into the drop ship and tied him up."

Bellamy's expression was severe as he stalked towards the ship, pulling his gun off his back and into his hands, Clarke hot on his heels.

Inside the drop ship, Connor and Derek were keeping watch over Murphy, who looked like he'd been beaten over the course of several days. Bellamy looked around seeing several of The 100 were waiting and watching. "Everyone but Connor and Derek out," he commanded. "Now."

"He claims he was with the grounders," Derek said.

Connor added his two cents. "We caught him trying to sneak back into camp."

Murphy looked up through the blood on his face. "I wasn't sneaking. I was running from the grounders."

Clarke moved to step forward, her instincts as a doctor to help overriding her hatred of Murphy. Bellamy's arm shot out, blocking her and pushing her back a few steps. "Anyone see grounders?" Derek and Connor shook their heads. "Well, in that case," Bellamy said taking aim at Murphy.

"Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?" Finn said, getting between Bellamy and Murphy.

"We were clear what would happen if he came back," Bellamy said without apology.

"No," Finn denied. "If he was with the grounders, then he knows things that can help us."

"Help us? We hanged him. We banished him, and now we're gonna kill him," Bellamy stated the facts blandly. "Get the hell out of my way."

"No," Clarke said, curling her hands around Bellamy's arm, making aiming the gun difficult if not impossible. "Finn is right."

"Like hell, he is," Bellamy disagreed. "Clarke, think about Charlotte."

"I am thinking about her, but what happened to Charlotte was as much our fault as his," she said with guilt and regret in her eyes, moving to Murphy despite Bellamy's grunt of protest. She picked up his hand and saw that his nails had been torn off. "He's not lying. They tortured him."

"You and the grounders should compare notes," Finn said accusingly, but Bellamy ignored him.

Clarke felt responsible, not only for Charlotte, but for what had happened to Murphy. What she didn't see that Bellamy did, is that Murphy had no regret, no remorse, no guilt and took no responsibility for the events that had transpired. There was nothing good in him, only hate and violence.

"The grounders know we're at war," Bellamy said, dragging Clarke to her feet and away from Murphy, just having her close to him was uncomfortable for Bellamy. "What did you tell them about us?"

"Everything," Murphy said quietly.

Clarke and Bellamy shared a worried look. "Once he's better, we find out what he knows, and then he's out of here, OK?"

Bellamy didn't want to agree, but he knew Clarke wouldn't let him throw Murphy out now or kill him. "What if he refuses to leave?"

Clarke hesitated. "We make him. We're stronger than he is, strong enough to show compassion."

"And if he comes back? Attacks us?"

"Then we kill him."

-The 100—

Clarke started feeling sick not long after cleaning up Murphy. Thinking that getting some air might work she walked out to the tent Raven did most of her work in, only to find the dark haired girl fiddling with the radio again.

"Hey… I was… Sorry. There's still nothing," Raven said.

Clarke nodded, looking down. "Hey, are you alright? You don't… Clarke! Your eyes!" Raven cried seeing blood seeping from Clarke's eyes like tears.

Before she could rush to her friend, both girls were distracted by shouts from outside for Clarke. Exiting the tent Clarke found Connor bleeding from the mouth and nose, listing to the side weakly.

Clarke looked from Connor to her own hand, smeared with blood, then towards the fire just in time to see Derek fall over. "Clarke?" Raven asked, holding out a cloth for Clarke to wipe her hands with.

"Raven. Get away from us. Don't touch me. Don't touch anything."

The sickness swept through camp quickly, and Clarke tried her best to get everyone who was showing symptoms into the drop ship. The only positive thought was that Bellamy was out of camp training a group to throw spears, so hopefully he hadn't been exposed.

-The 100—

She heard him shouting her name long before he burst into the drop ship, ignoring her quarantine order. She was kneeling by Murphy trying to guage how advanced his illness was compared to Connor and Derek's.

"Clarke!" He shouted. "I heard you were sick?" he asked coming towards her, but she held up a hand to ward him off.

"Stop," she said weakly. "Bellamy, stay back."

"Did he do something to you?" He asked, his eyes full of worry that didn't diminish even as she shook her head. "What the hell is this?

"Biological warfare. You were waiting for the grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it. Murphy is the weapon." She explained how Murphy had only gotten away when the Grounders had left his cage unlocked. Bellamy moved towards her, intent on helping her to her feet when he saw her struggle to perform the normally simple task alone. "Hey, don't," she cowered back from him. "Whatever this thing is, it spreads through contact. You shouldn't be in here. I set up a quarantine."

She paused, leaning on the wall trying to shore up the strength to tell him difficult news. "Bellamy. Octavia was the first to find Murphy. She touched him." Bellamy paled. "She's not sick, no symptoms. I put her on the third floor with others who were exposed but who aren't sick."

Bellamy argued to get Octavia out of there, not wanting her to get sick by being close to the infected people, but Clarke convinced him that she was right.

"At least this way she can't sneak out again to see Lincoln," he said, causing Clarke to flinch. "Hey, you need to sit. You have to take care of yourself, Princess."

Clarke looked down, her throat tight with unshed tears. Lying to Bellamy wasn't something she did often or took lightly.

-The 100—

* * *

Words 3522

So there are 3 more chapters to this story, the last two are ready except for some editing. I thought this was the last chapter I had to write, but it stretched into two.


	9. Chapter 9

_In case you've never read any of my other stories, weaving in and out of show episodes is something I really enjoy, I like figuring out how to make it work within a different scenario, so there will be more show dialogue here, adapted to fit my story._

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Octavia ran through the woods swiftly, the way well known to her after many visits. "Lincoln?" she called for her lover breathlessly, bursting into the cave without hesitation. He came towards her, not speaking, he didn't speak much as a rule, but as he inspected her for bleeding from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears, and dread crept into the silence between them. "Lincoln," she whispered. "You knew."

"I tried to get you out of there," he said, not apologizing or offering excuses or justifications. " Did you not see the flower?"

Octavia felt like her lungs were being squeezed, having to work for each breath while holding back her panic and uncertainty. "I saw it. Right before I found the kid your people sent to infect us," she said plainly, looking for any sign of regret in his strong face. "People are dying, Lincoln," she continued, stepping back from him. "Clarke sent me here for the cure."

"There is no cure."

Octavia tried to swallow back the bile in her throat, focusing on the information he was giving her instead of her feeling of betrayal. The sickness didn't kill many, though few were immune. The Grounders used it to weaken opponents before the attack, and the attack on The 100's camp was set for the morning.

"You're gonna have to help me save them," Octavia demanded.

"I can't," he said with some regret, turning away from her accusing eyes to stuff some more of his belongings into a bag. "I tried. Some of my people think I'm a traitor now."

"Because of the bridge? You were just trying to make peace."

"It's not the bridge."

"Because of me?" Octavia asked, remorse thick in her voice. "Oh."

"That doesn't matter now," Lincoln said, coming back to her. "I'm leaving, Octavia, right now. I want you to come with me."

Octavia gaped at him, leaving had never been a possibility for her. But why not? She loved Lincoln, if she stayed in the camp with Bellamy she might end up dead and if she lived her brother would continue to try to control her life. "And go where?"

"East to the sea, then across it. There's a clan, allies of the woods. They'll take us."

Octavia wanted to agree, to strike out on her own, but the thought of leaving Bellamy, never seeing him again, angry words the last to be spoken between them paralyzed her. "I can't just let my brother get killed."

"There is nothing you can do to stop that now," Lincoln said in annoyance, not understanding why she didn't see what was to come.

Octavia backed away from him, torn between the brother who had loved her her whole life, and the man who offered her a future. She told Lincoln that she as going back to camp to warn them, then would meet him at dawn so she could leave with him. Even as she saw his look of relief, she wasn't sure if she meant the words. She wanted to mean them, wanted to be strong enough to strike out on her own, but she wasn't sure she was ready to cut the ties to her past, to Bellamy.

Turning to leave, she paused. "Lincoln, why are your people attacking now? I thought… I thought they'd agreed to wait and see."

"Things have changed," he said gravely. "We saw another ship come down."

"But it crashed, why would that change anything?" Octavia asked.

"My people were willing to consider letting yours live in peace, but if more of you come, and what you told me about them…"

"What I told you?" Octavia asked hollowly, her brother's accusing words about her risking the lives of The 100 ringing in her ears.

"Your people rule with an iron thumb. They do not allow for other viewpoints. Their technology could be a threat to us. It was our determination that they pose a danger to us, and therefore you pose a danger to us."

"But we've had peace, for weeks!"

"We cannot allow any more to come."

"You won't be able to stop them, your spears won't mean anything against their ships. Their guns."

"If you are all gone, they will not come," he said simply.

Octavia felt like her chest had been hollowed out, leaving only a sick emptiness. "So you'd kill us all, me, my brother, children, because-" she shook her head. Because of her, because she'd said too much to someone she trusted but who wouldn't hesitate to kill the people she cared about.

-The 100-

Bellamy watched from a safe distance as Miller and Guy, both sick but still standing, carried out the dead. The sickness had already claimed two lives: Derek and May.

"All right. Show is over," Bellamy said roughly, needing to keep the healthy members of the camp on task. "Get back to your posts." He turned to see Clark standing at the top of the ramp to the drop ship, his expression softening. "You got enough food in there, water?"

"Yeah," she said with a faint smile, her face and hands smeared with blood. "Some medicine might be nice."

He smiled and looked down, not wanting her to see the stark fear in his eyes. "I'll see what I can do." His eyes met hers, then he looked behind her, up towards the third level of the metal behemoth that dominated the east side of their camp. "Octavia, you OK?" he called loudly.

Clarke flinched, and Bellamy stepped towards her, his worry of her and his silent sister growing exponentially. "Is she-"

"Bellamy, wait," Clarke said thickly, looking up to meet his eyes. "She's not here. I sent her to see Lincoln." His look of stunned betrayal was not one she thought she'd ever be able to forget. "Look," she said, needing him to understand. "If there's a cure, he has it. I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't let her go."

Bellamy spared her a hard look before turning away from her, making her heart clench painfully. "If anything happens to her, you and me are gonna have problems."

"Bellamy," she called, tears thick in her throat. "Bellamy!"

He ignored her, walking towards the fence, hollering for someone to get out of his way, only to back off quickly as the slight Asian boy turned to reveal blood dripping from his eyes. Several more people fell quickly, spitting up blood and panic swept through the camp with the healthy pointing guns at the sick, threating them with getting shot if they didn't get to the drop ship.

Bellamy, Finn, Jasper and a few others tried to get the panicked teens to calm down, but it was Clarke, exiting the drop ship with a gun and firing three rounds into the air like some war lord from years long past that stopped the riot.

"This is exactly what the grounders want," she said wearily, the gun still raised to the sky as if she was a seasoned warrior instead of a teenage girl trained to save lives, not take them. "Don't you see that? They don't have to kill us if we kill each other first."

A boy that Bellamy couldn't even name stepped forward, pointing his weapon at Clarke as she stepped off the drop ship ramp. "They won't have to kill us if we all catch the virus," he shouted, his voice cracking with stress or puberty. "Get back in the damn drop ship."

Bellamy didn't hesitate, striding forward, seizing control of the gun from the boy who dared to threaten Clarke. Jerking the gun down then up, he smashed the butt of the gun into the boy's face, knocking him backwards, and taking the gun off him.

Bellamy looked towards Clarke, his emotions running high. Fear, worry, anger. "Not to state the obvious, but your quarantine isn't working."

His anger faded quickly as he saw Clarke begin to fall, slumping towards the ground, he raced forward and caught her. "Hey, let me go," she mumbled weakly. "I'm OK."

"No, you're not," he said, holding her in his arms easily.

"Octavia will come back with a cure," she whispered, needing to believe it, but just then Octavia appeared amongst the campers watching as their remaining healthy leader risked infection.

"There is no cure," Octavia said in a clear voice. "But the Grounders don't use the sickness to kill."

"Really? Tell that to them," Miller said coming out of the drop ship and motioning to take Clarke from Bellamy, who refused to hand her over.

"I warned you about seeing that Grounder again," Bellamy said harshly.

"Yeah? Well, I have a warning for you, too," Octavia said, the scaled tipping towards leaving with Lincoln. "The grounders are coming. And they're attacking at first light." The chattering of the camp, thick with worry and fear filled the air as Octavia strode towards her brother and Clarke. "Come on. I'll help you get Clarke into the drop ship."

Monty followed the Blakes into the drop ship, not sparing a glance for his (former?) best friend, Jasper.

What do I have to do to stop you from coming in here?" Clarke said, her heart in her eyes as she looked up at Bellamy as he placed her gently in the hammock Murphy vacated.

"Get better."

Monty appeared with a cup of water for Clarke, tilting her head up to help her drink it.

"Monty, no, you're not sick," Clarke said feebly.

"If he's not sick by now, then he's probably immune like me," Octavia said.

"Maybe I'm immune, or maybe not, but I'm not going to stand around doing nothing while this camp goes down the drain," Monty said in his soft but certain way.

Bellamy turned to his sister, relief at her safe return overwhelmed by her continued recklessness. "What else did Lincoln tell you?"

"The virus doesn't last long."

Murphy approached with a damp cloth, handing it to Clarke. "It's true. I feel better."

"They need to stay hydrated," Clarke murmured quietly.

"You need to stay hydrated," Monty insisted, forcing her to take more water. "Bellamy, you shouldn't be in here, I'll take care of Clarke, with her down, we need you healthy."

Bellamy hesitated but nodded, running his hand along Clarke's cheek as their eyes met in a meaningful look, before exiting the ship.

-The 100—

Clarke could barely keep her eyes open as she directed Monty, Octavia, and Murphy on how to care for the sick. She looked up to see Miller, pale under his honey colored skin, eyes rimmed with red standing at the door, a gun resting at his feet. "Miller," she croaked, pausing to clear her throat, feeling the raw scratch of it. "You're not getting worse?"

He glanced around and seeing no one who looked like they were going to make a break for it, he walked over to Clarke's hammock. "No, I don't feel good, but I'm not getting worse. You?"

She coughed, a bit of blood appearing on her lips. "I don't know, I haven't thrown up a substantial amount of blood like some of the others, so I guess I'm holding on."

"That's good," he said, offering her a cup of water. "We need you."

She smiled, her lips trembling with the effort. "You too."

"Clarke, when we were first on the ground, those first few days, I wanted-"

"Hey," she whispered. "Stop. No one is dying, no need for apologies or confessions. We all made mistakes here. Doesn't mean that we can't do better now. That we haven't done better. That-"

"I got it," he said, ducking his head.

"I wanted… Raven is due back today with-"

"Jones and Monroe," Miller completed her thought, his expression suddenly thoughtful and intense. They'd sent the three of them to Quantico, the farthest destination on Raven and Monty's list of possible supplies and fallback locations.

"They should stay out of camp," she said, wanting at least a few of them to survive unscathed.

Miller nodded. "I'll tell Bellamy."

-The 100—

Clarke drifted off to sleep, the fever that was sapping strength from her body also ravaging her mind. She tumbled through a series of memories, happy and sad.

"Dad, how do I draw an elephant?" A five year old Clarke with round rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes asked, looking up at the man who meant the world to her.

"I don't know, Princess, let's look at a picture and see if we can figure it out together."

-flash—

"Come on Wells," Clarke called impatiently, tired of waiting for her friend to finally accept that the other kids on the Ark, even the kids from Phoenix, would never accept them. "Let's go."

"I'm coming," Wells said, smiling, but she could see the too serious look in his eyes.

"Don't let it get to you," she commanded. "People who can't or won't see us for who we are instead of who our parents are aren't worth our time."

-flash—

Teenaged Clarke was in the Ark infirmary, watching from a respectful distance as her mother delivered a baby boy. "You have a son," Abby said, tired but with happy pride ringing in her voice.

-flash—

Clarke wept desperate, angry tears onto her mother's shoulder, the image of her father's sad stoicism as he'd entered the air lock stuck in her mind. They'd killed him, they'd killed him for wanting to tell the truth.

The door to their quarters opened and Marcus Kane entered. Clarke sat, shellshocked as Abby rushed to her feet, her glare fierce as she faced off with her fellow council member. "What do you want now?"

"I'm sorry Abby, but Clarke is under arrest."

"What?" Abby had cried and pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.

Clarke offered no resistance as she was led from the only home she knew, hearing the guards recite her sentence. Solitary confinement until she turned 18. She'd already been tried and convicted in private, her crime officially listed as treason, but really she just knew too much. And was too much her father's daughter for any of the council to rest easy until she as neutralized.

-flash—

Drawing was the only thing Clarke had to occupy her time in her solitary cell. She'd covered the wall's with drawings, her father and mother's faces, the moonrise over Earth, and tons of drawings of what she imagined Earth would look like. Forests, beaches, mountains, trees, animals, even a city that would have fallen into rubble long ago.

The door to her cell slid open, two guards entering unexpectedly. "Prisoner 319, take off the watch," one of them ordered, taking her wrist in his firm grip.

"No. It was my father's," she protested, spinning away from him.

He reached out to recapture her, but she fought him off, kicking the other and shutting the door behind her as she bolted.

The Skybox was full of chaos, dozens of juvenile prisoners being led out onto the gangplanks. Clarke ran, but pulled up short seeing a guard in front of her, his baton at the ready. She turned, looking for an escape but saw her retreat was cut off by the two guards who'd come into her cell.

Then her mother pushed past them. "Mom?"

"You're being sent to the ground, Clarke. All of you. You're going to Earth."

-flash—

The reality of being on the ground was too overwhelming to grasp, as was being surrounded by 100 rowdy teenagers, plus one surly fake guard. Clarke wandered away from the group, smiling in wonder at the trees, air, birds, clouds, dirt… everything.

Stopping and unfurling the map she'd found on the drop ship, she looked out into what was her new home. A boy (Finn) approached, calling her Princess, and thinking it was fun to tease her, but Clarke was focused on a task. "Do you see that peak over there? That's Mount Weather. There's a radiation-soaked forest between us - and our next meal."

-flash—

Their euphoria at being on the ground faded quickly, at least for the ones who saw the reality, the hardship of their new home. They'd left the camp with five , but returned with only four.

"Where's the food?" Bellamy asked, a dark look on his face as he tended to his injured sister.

"We didn't make it to Mount Weather," Finn said wearily.

"What the hell happened out there?" Bellamy asked.

"We were attacked," Clarke said, still breathless from running back to camp.

"Attacked? By what?" Wells asked.

"Not what. Who. It turns out, when the last man from the ground died on the Ark, he wasn't the last grounder," Finn said, leaving the rest of them to figure out what that meant for themselves.

"It's true. Everything we thought we knew about the ground is wrong," Clarke said.

-flash—

Clarke was determined to go after Jasper, refusing to write him off. The Ark had decided who lived and died, snuffing out people as if they were of no consequence. Clarke meant to prove that every life counted. Starting with Jasper.

She approached Bellamy, Wells at her heels. Octavia looked up, the bite mark on her leg exposed. "You guys leaving? I'm coming, too."

"No, no. No way," Bellamy countermanded her statement. "Not again."

"He's right," Clarke agreed. "Your leg's just gonna slow us down." She turned her eyes on Bellamy Blake, their self-appointed new leader. "I'm here for you."

-flash—

Nightmares were common in camp, but when Clarke heard a child's voice calling out fearfully into the night, she wanted to help.

"No! No! No! No!"

Clarke found a small girl, no more than 14 years old with sandy blonde hair pulled back tightly into a French braid. "Hey, wake up. It's OK," she comforted the child. "It's OK. It's just a dream. You're Charlotte, right? I'm Clarke. It's ok to be scared. Do you want to talk about it?"

-flash—

Clarke had rushed through the woods, the screams drawing her forwards. She stopped when she saw Bellamy kneeling over a prone boy, covered in chemical burned skin and boils. "I heard screams," Clarke said, approaching Bellamy carefully.

The broken, lost look in his eyes made him real to her for the first time. "Charlotte found him. I sent her back to camp."

Clarke nodded and looked Atom over, seeing that there was nothing she could do to save his life. She looked at Bellamy, forcing herself to meet his dark, tortured gaze. She shook her head seeing the spark of hope drain from his eyes as a muscle in his jaw ticked.

She cleared the grief stricken expression from her own face, taking the knife from Bellamy's limp hand and meeting Atom's scared gaze. "OK," she said in a tone meant to comfort and reassure. "I'm gonna help you, all right?" She hummed lightly and stroked his hair, trying to give him the best death she could as she eased the knife into his neck, puncturing his jugular and watching as the pain faded from his face as he bleed to death.

-flash—

Jasper wasn't getting better, they had no medicine, nothing to help him, but the Grounders had applied a poultice to his wound and Clarke was determined to figure out what the red substance was. "Whatever this stuff is, it has to have had antibiotic properties," she mused to Finn, her ever present companion on the ground.

"Let me take a look," Wells said, holding out a hand to her. "Before you refuse my help, remember who aced botany in Earth skills."

Clarke frowned but handed over the bandage to her former best friend. "The grounders used it as a poultice. I'm thinking a tea might be even more effective if we can figure out what it is."

"I know what it is," Wells said. "Seaweed."

-flash—

The trip to get the seaweed had gone much better than the attempted trip to Mt. Weather, if you didn't count the radiation fog, or being trapped with Wells in a small enclosed space overnight.

Finn caught up to Clarke in the forest, leaving Wells to trail behind them alone. "You were kind of rough on Wells."

"Hardly," she snorted.

"He's a pretty straight-up guy," Finn said, his gaze reproachful. "And he loves you. You know that, right? But every time your dad comes up, he won't give you a straight answer. Makes me think he's hiding something. So, I gotta ask you. How sure are you that Wells is the one who turned in your dad?" Finn questioned.

"He's the only one I told," Clarke said, certainty ringing in her tone.

"Is he the only one who knew?"

-flash—

Finn's words rang in her head until the truth finally settled over her like a lead blanket. Clarke went to find Wells, needing to hear the words, hear the truth from him. "Wells? I know I probably don't deserve it, but I need to know the truth," she said, her voice cracking from emotion. "It was my mom. Wasn't it? She's the one who told your dad." Tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't want to believe it. I… I couldn't. I blamed you because my father's dead and it's my mother's fault. Isn't it?" She looked up at him expecting to find anger, but only saw sorrow. "Wells, please."

He nodded slightly, and Clarke struggled to breath. "I knew how you would feel. I wanted to…"

"To protect me," she cried. "So, you let me hate you."

"What are friends for?"

"How can you forgive me?"

"It's already done," he said simply, taking her into his arms as she cried for her father, for her friend, and for the betrayal she'd never seen coming even after thinking nothing could shock her anymore.

-flash-

The horror of seeing Well's cold stiff body lying outside the fence morphed into the image of Charlotte's terrified face, then the young girl's look of resigned resolve as she flung herself off the cliff to her death.

"Bellamy! You cannot fight all of us," Murphy sneered. "Give her up."

"Maybe not, but I guarantee I'll take a few of you with me," Bellamy had countered, holding Charlotte back from Murphy who would kill her without a second thought.

"Bellamy! Stop! This has gone too far," Clarke shouted, thrusting herself into the middle of the fray, Finn standing back behind her. "Just calm down. We'll talk about this," she reasoned.

"I'm sick of listening to you talk," Murphy said, twisting Clarke into his arms, a knife at her throat. She'd miscalculated again. She'd faced Bellamy, assuming he was her enemy, when it was Murphy.

"Let her go," Bellamy growled.

"I will slit her throat," Murphy promised gleefully.

"No, please," Charlotte begged, struggling with Bellamy who was trying to protect her. "Please don't hurt her."

Murphy agreed to take Charlotte, release Clarke, but Bellamy and Clarke both knew it was a lie. Murphy was angry, and he needed to vent his anger on others. Charlotte would do, but Clarke was a much better target, the daughter of privledge. So smart, so collected, so sure she was right all the time.

"Don't do it, Charlotte," Clarke cried out, cringing as the knife pressed into her throat.

"Don't do it, Charlotte!," Bellamy yelled, glaring at his former minion. "Murphy, this is not happening."

"I can't let any of you get hurt anymore. Not because of me. Not after what I did," Charlotte said softly just before throwing her small body over the cliff.

-flash-

Facing the Grounder's leader was frightening, but Clarke tried to be calm and rational. Fear and anger would not help her negotiate peace. "I think we got off to a rough start, but we want to find a way to live together."

Anya looked grim. "I understand. You started a war that you don't know how to end."

Clarke blinked in surprise. "What? No. We didn't start anything. You attacked us for no reason," Clarke countered.

"No reason? The missiles you launched burned a village to the ground."

There was gun fire, yelling, fear, her gaze finding Bellamy's as she scrambled to avoid arrows, Grounders falling from the trees, Anya pulling a blade from her glove only to jerk back as a bullet fired by Bellamy knocked her away from Clarke. They raced back to camp, Miller leading the way, Jones bringing up the rear, Bellamy and Clarke somewhere in the middle.

Outside the wall of their tenuous camp, Finn hand turned his disappointment on them. "Well, if we weren't at war already, we sure as hell are now."

-flash-

Clarke awoke with a jerk, the memories that had haunted her making her as weary as the sickness that ravaged her body. She frowned, huffing out a breath as Bellamy came into focus, standing at her side. "You can't be in here," she protested.

"Get over it, Princess. You want me to follow your orders, get on your feet and make me," he teased.

She smiled frailly, her eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown. "You need to save yourselves. Just leave camp. Take anyone healthy enough with you."

"If you think that's even a possibility, you don't know me very well," he said, the deep timber of his voice warming her.

"I know you," she said simply.

"At this rate, when the grounders get here, there won't be anyone left to fight back," Murphy said, pausing as he made his way to another sick teenager, helping them drinks some water and wipe away blood.

"That's the point," Octavia said.

"Get some sleep, Clarke, we can hold down the fort until you're on your feet again," Bellamy said softly, wanting nothing more than to hold her until she felt better, but he knew he had responsibilities elsewhere and when she got better she'd be the first to take him to task for ignoring the camp for her.

Clarke's eyes drifted shut, and this time she filled her mind with a good memory, trying to hold on to the feeling Bellamy evoked in her so effortlessly.

* * *

_Words 4419_

_So this chapter got a little out of control, and now it's two chapters. The next one is mostly written, just a few more scenes to write._


	10. Chapter 10

**OK, so my prediction for season 2:**

Kane/Abby looking for other downed ships and marching east towards the kids (cause they look like they're by the Rockies, but maybe just the other side of the Appalachia), regardless they're not going to find Clarke... maybe a few survivors who were outside the wall... like...

Bellamy and Finn, who will find Lincoln and Octavia, then go after the 62 others who survived the Grounder attack. Finn is a tracker and Lincoln knows the Mountain Men are from the Mountain... so... while they're looking for a way in...

we'll be finding out how militaristic (and bad) the new/old US gov is and why they never responded to radio communications from space in the last 100 years. I have to say, I thought the mountain men were the militant grounders, but instead it looks like they're the Gov/Military survivors who holed up in Mt. Weather 100 years before (similar to the Ark) and have taken it on themselves to take out anyone using "technology" ie the bomb the kids set off on the bridge. (for anyone counting enemies- Grounders, Reapers, Ark rebels - not confirmed dead, and now Mountain Men)

(Side note: because I made Miller a more fleshed out character in my story I really didn't want him to die on the show, so every time he stood up like he was waving a flag "kill me, kill me" I was worried, I hope he becomes a series regular next year.

(Side note 2: Monty)

(Side note 3: I don't mind the show not giving us Bellamy/Clarke, and I don't think I would mind other pairings in the short term, but I'm not into Finn, but what's even more annoying is the show writers saying they aren't doing romance, that this is a serious! show and then throwing lovesick!Finn in our faces. Enough.)

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Clarke lay pale and smeared with dried blood in a hammock in the drop ship, dozens of sick teenagers around her. Finn, Monty, Octavia and Murphy were rushing around trying to tend to them all. Her eyes closed, she smiled slightly, recalling her second kiss with Bellamy vividly. The first kiss had been a shock, it had opened her eyes to what could be, but it was the second kiss that really started it all, started her mind tumbling down a path that had led to her being in love with Bellamy Blake, rebel leader.

She'd woken from their nap in the bunker Finn had found, tangled limbs and warm bodies, pressed tightly together. Clarke had blinked the sleep from her eyes, feeling rested and peaceful even if she'd woken up partly smothered by Bellamy's weight over her. She felt the faint whisper of his fingers teasing a strand of her hair, splayed out around her face on the bunker's couch.

"Hey," she said her voice even more raspy than normal with sleep.

He smiled slightly and nodded his acknowledgement, his eyes, usually so fierce and guarded, soft and questioning. His gaze drew her in, but she couldn't deny that her eyes had fallen to his mouth first, then he'd been kissing her.

Their first kiss was passionate, intense, thought obliterating, but the second was soft, sweet. This time he asked instead of took, and Clarke found that she wanted to give him more. Her hands slid around his neck drawing him down, accepting his weight eagerly, opening her mouth for his tongue.

He settled his weight over her more comfortably, easing his hips between her legs when she parted them for him, needing to be closer, his upper body supported by his arms, propped up at her sides, encasing her in his warm scent.

She would have expected him to rush her, racing towards the finish line, pleasure his only goal, but his hands barely touched her, and in his eyes there was so much more than sex.

Bellamy Blake was a walking contradiction, and her reaction to him was no less so. He made her feel safe and warm and comforted, but also terrifyingly out of control, exciting her and scaring her in equal amounts.

Her trust in him as a leader had been new then, her trust in him as a man still in its fledgling stage, but as he'd let her see the real him she'd come to realize that he was not just want the camp needed, but what she needed.

-The 100-

Harper stopped Raven from reentering the camp with Jones and Monroe and Raven wondered who had given the ditzy blonde a gun. "Get out of my way, Harper," Raven ordered.

"I can't," the girl had stood her ground, that alone surprising Raven enough to stop her. "You can't. Everyone is sick, or nearly everyone. It's bad. Clarke wanted you three to stay outside the walls, to keep you safe. Bellamy agreed," Harper said, evoking authority that Raven might respect.

"What do you mean sick?"

Bellamy emerged from the gate, a grim look on his face, Finn trailing behind him. "Hemoragic fever, but according to Octavia's Grounder, it doesn't last long, some people are starting to recover," he relayed the facts. "We've lost two so far, more than 50 percent of the camp is sick."

"What can we do?" Raven asked.

"The grounders are coming. At first light. I need you to make more bullets." Raven nodded and moved forward, but Bellamy held up a hand. "No. Out here. Monty is wiping down your supplies with moonshine, we can't risk you getting sick. We'll also move as many of the sick who have recovered enough to walk to the nearest bunker," Bellamy said. "Jones, you'll be in charge of making sure they get there."

Jones nodded. "And the rest?"

"Can't be moved. Not yet." He didn't say that he'd be making the call for the healthy left in camp, if they would stay to defend the camp and the sick or evacuate to another bunker, live to fight another day.

"Clark?" Raven questioned, knowing the truth already. Even if Clarke was healthy she wouldn't leave the sick behind, and the ravaged look on Bellamy's face told the tale.

"She's sick, but she's holding on," Bellamy said gruffly. "Focus on the bullets, we may have to try to defend this location."

"We're low on gunpo-"

"Jasper has been working on that nonstop," Bellamy cut her off. "Do the best you can. Monroe will watch your back out here."

Jasper and Monty came out carrying Raven's supplies with them. Monty smiled at Raven before going back into camp, ignoring the imploring gaze from his best friend.

"If a Grounder army is coming we can't defend this, not with less than half our people," Raven stated the facts.

"Oh, we're so dead," Harper bemoaned.

"Don't worry, I got your back," Jasper said with a confidence that was new.

"Focus on the task at hand," Bellamy ordered. "We need as many rounds done by dawn as we can."

"It won't matter if there's no one left who can shoot," Finn disagreed with Bellamy's plan, drawing an annoyed look. "What do we need to build a bomb?"

Bellamy looked surprised, but Raven considered the question seriously. "Depends on what you're trying to blow up."

"How about a bridge?" Finn explained that Murphy said he crossed a bridge over a wide, tall river canyon on his way out of the Grounder's camp. Bellamy and Raven shared a look both remembering the bridge they'd met the Grounder's on for their 'peace talks.' "Blowing the bridge won't stop the attack, but the longer we can delay it, the more of us will be able to fight," Finn said.

"Or run," Jones said.

Bellamy nodded slowly. "Even if Murphy is telling the truth and that's a big if, that bridge has survived a nuclear war and 97 years of weather."

"It won't survive me," Raven said confidently.

"Then we slow them down," Bellamy said, agreeing to the plan.

They decided that Raven would go with Finn to collect the hydrazine from the crash site, after teaching Monroe how to make more bullets with fresh gun powder, while Jones took the first group of moderately sick teens to one of the underground bunkers.

"Wait, someone will have to shoot the bomb, to set it off, I won't have time to make a remote trigger," Raven explained. "To be safe, you need to be at least 200 feet away to make the shot."

"No problem," Bellamy agreed. "Which one of you plants the bomb?"

Raven and Finn shared a look, neither volunteering at first, then Finn stepped up, surprising Bellamy. "I will."

"You won't pick up a gun, but blowing people up, that you're OK with?"

"We're blowing up a bridge. There's not gonna be any people on it," Finn said naively.

"Finn, we'll only have one bomb," Raven said reluctantly.

"We need to use it to kill as many of those bastards as possible," Bellamy said. "Send a message that we won't be the only ones dying."

"But they don't know we'll only have one bomb," Finn protested. "If we did, why would we waste it on the bridge? I'm talking about deterrents, peace through strength."

"The appearance of strength, you mean," Bellamy said, knowing how weak their real position was.

"Yeah."

"The men who built the A-bomb thought they were peacemakers, too," Bellamy said darkly, the parallels of their situation not lost on him. "How'd that work out for them?"

-The 100—

Assembling the bomb components was easier than Raven had thought, but just as terrifying. "Please don't let me blow up," she muttered, sliding down the trail into the ravine below the bridge a rope tied to her waist, keeping her from tumbling down to her death, the bomb parts in a pack on her back. Bellamy was just above her, with Jones and two others at the top ready to help pull them up once the bomb was planted.

Finn had volunteered to plant the bomb, but in the end he'd wanted Raven there for any last minute adjustments, and he hadn't trusted Finn to get the job done. Raven had agreed, saying that she had been coming to him to discuss the same thing.

Now, standing on a narrow rock ledge she kneeled and began putting the pieces together she thought she might have left Finn to it. Floating in space was a whole lot different than balancing on a six inch rock ledge over a more than 100 foot drop. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before handing the coffee can bomb to Bellamy who had determined where to place it at the bridge's footings through the scope of his riffle. "Boom" she said, unable to help herself.

Bellamy tensed, then glared at her. "That's cute."

"Relax, as long as nothing sparks it's safe," she said dryly. "Safe enough."

Bellamy ignored her commentary, wedging the can into the spot he thought would weaken the bridge terminally but would still be visible for him to make the shot.

As they were climbing up the ropes, hauling their own body weigh up inch by agonizing inch, they heard the drums.

"What is that?" Raven asked.

"War drums?"

"I don't want to know, let's just get the hell out of here," Raven demanded, grunting as Jones hauled her up by her rope the last ten feet over the edge of the ravine.

The teens retreated to the tree line, hiding in the dense foliage as Bellamy took aim.

"What are you waiting for?" Raven asked anxiously.

"They'll have another way around, we need to do more than slow them down, we need to show them we're not easy targets."

Raven clenched her jaw. She knew he was probably right, but the idea of her bomb killing people was not something she'd let herself seriously consider, let alone imagined that she would see in person.

Bellamy waited until the first of the Grounder's warriors, large men in scary face masks, were in the middle of the old stone bridge before he fired. His first shot missed, but the Grounders fell back a few steps, looking for the source of the shot.

His second attempt hit the mark and the bridge exploded in a rush of heated air, stone, and dirt that hit Bellamy and the others like a wall.

-The 100—

Back at camp, Miller and Clarke were trying to gather everyone left in camp into the drop ship, their strong hold.

"It's almost dawn," she said. "Better get everyone inside. Just to be safe."

"You think if we lock the doors, maybe the Grounders will think we're not home?" he asked speculatively.

"No, but it's the best we have," Clarke said realistically.

Miller's eyes moved from her pale face to the horizon, his gaze steady. Clarke tried to draw strength from him, but couldn't deny that she was filled with anxiety. She had no idea where Bellamy was, how he was, or when he would be back.

"You think they'll do it?" Clarke asked, seeking reassurance.

"I know Bellamy will or he'll die trying."

Clarke felt a stark fear settle over her, knowing Miller was right. She looked towards Mt. Weather, the direction of the bridge and the Grounders camp. She heard the explosion before she saw the plume.

"They did it," Miller said unnecessarily.

"I am become death, destroyer of worlds," she said softly. Miller turned to look at her. "It's Oppenheimer, the man who built the first…"

"I know who Oppenheimer is," he said, looking back to the sky.

Clarke smiled. Miller was dyslexic, and that had made studying hard, and led to him acting out on the Ark, which had led to his incarceration. But dyslexic didn't mean stupid or ignorant. Her expression was apology enough and Miller squeezed her arm gently, turning her back towards the drop ship. "Get some rest, I'll get the last of them inside."

-The 100—

Picking themselves up, Bellamy, Raven and the three others stumbled back towards their camp, hoping that it had been enough to buy then the time they needed to retreat, or be strong enough to hold their ground.

About halfway back, Bellamy stopped leaning against a tree weakly. He hadn't slept in over 24 hours, had barely eaten anything, and felt like he was about to fall over. Swiping his hand over his mouth, he pulled it back to the grim sight of blood.

"Bellamy!" Jones shouted, rushing towards their leader. "You're bleeding."

"Don't touch me, it's spread by touch, you idiots," Bellamy said gruffly, backing away from them. "Get back to camp, I'll follow you."

"We're not leaving you here," Mark Block protested, saying what the rest were feeling.

"Jones, get Raven back to camp where she can help with our defenses. Neither of you have had as much exposure to this as we have. Robert and I will stay with Bellamy, make sure he makes it back."

Bellamy frowned, not used to anyone else besides Clarke issuing orders around him, but he nodded his assent.

"Hey, Shooter!" Raven called after taking a few steps. "You better make it back to camp, 'cause I have a nice surprise for you for once." She grinned, the dirt and dust on her weary face not hiding her beauty. "I didn't use all the hydrazine in the bomb, we'll have some more fancy fireworks if those assholes come calling."

Bellamy smiled, wondering how Finn had ever managed to get a woman like Raven to fall for him.

-The 100—

Raven shouted for Miller to open the gate, that Bellamy and the others had arrived, looking up from her newest contraption: a hydrazine/gun powder landmine.

Miller took Bellamy's weight from the other two, pulling him into the drop ship and laying him on a pallet bed now empty, since many more had recovered enough to sit along the drop ship's metal walls, keeping themselves out of the way.

"Hang in there, man," Miller said, looking for Clarke, but seeing Octavia instead.

She rushed to her brother, a panicked look on her face. "Bell? No," she said falling to her knees next to him, feeling his forehead for fever. "Get me some water!" she shouted. Bellamy began to spit up blood and she looked at Miller. "Roll him on his side." Octavia felt helpless and terrible as she watched him retch, her eyes meeting Miller's. "Get Clarke."

Wiping away the blood from his face she tried to smile. "Bell…" his eyes focused on her. "Hey, big brother," she said rubbing his back.

"I'm scared."

"I won't let anything happen to you, I promise," Octavia said, pressing a cool, damp cloth to his forehead.

"That's what I said to you the day you were born," he said quietly, his breathing rapid either from the sickness or his fear.

"I know," she nodded, looking down at him and knowing that she couldn't leave him. "You told me that, like thousand times."

"I'm glad you're here," he said. "Where's…"

"Right here," Octavia said as Miller appeared, Clarke at his side. "Just get some rest now, OK? Both of you."

Clarke sank down beside Bellamy, her gaze fearful as she took in his bloody face. "You did it."

"Yeah… We did." He forced a smile. "Group… effort."

"Get some sleep," she ordered softly.

"I will if you will, Princess."

She smiled sadly and lay down beside him, Miller standing over them, keeping guard.

-The 100—

Seeing that Bellamy was asleep and in good hands, Octavia snuck out of camp. She had to tell Lincoln goodbye.

Entering his cave for what would likely be the last time, Octavia saw Lincoln was packed and ready to go. He barely glanced at her and she felt guilty. "We had to stop the attack."

"There is so much you don't understand," he said, and she realized he wasn't angry at her. "The mountain men, they'll come, and they'll kill us all. We have to get out of here while we still got the chance."

"The mountain men? You mean, the drawings in your book?"

"Yeah. Now let's go," he commanded. "We've got a lot of ground to cover before dark."

Octavia mashed her lips together to stop them from trembling. "I'm not going with you." She slid his book out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him.

"You'll die here."

"Maybe."

"Why?" he asked, his normally stoic face marked with emotion.

"You just said it. They're my people," she said tremulously, raising up onto her toes to press a kiss to his mouth. "I'm sorry. Goodbye, Lincoln."

-The 100—

At The 100's camp, Jones, Raven and Monroe stood guard on the fence, while Miller maintained his vigil over Bellamy.

Finally he woke up, looking for Clarke, but not finding her at his side. "Here," Murphy said, offering him water as he struggled to sit up.

"Get the hell away from me," Bellamy said, pushing the smaller boy away.

"Bellamy, you're sick, OK? I'm just trying to help."

"You heard him. In fact, I think we don't need your 'help' anymore," Miller said roughly, pointing his gun at Murphy and forcing him back farther into the drop ship.

Clarke appeared over Bellamy, smiling and trying not to cry as she saw him sitting up. "Here," she said, handing him a cup of water.

He ignored the water, reaching out for her instead. Clarke sank down beside him, burying her face in his neck. He wrapped his arm around her feeling her tremble. "Hey, you feeling better?" he asked needing verification, his dark eyes searching hers needing her to be OK.

"Yeah," she said, lifting her head to meet his eyes, brushing away the evidence of her tears.

"That's good."

"You seen Octavia?" he asked, wanting to see his sister was safe too.

"She was up all night helping people. Murphy gave her a break."

"Don't tell me you trust him now," Bellamy said

"Trust? No. I do believe in second chances, though."

"Some people aren't worthy of your second chances, Clarke," he said.

"You were," she said softly, threading her fingers through his.

He looked away, not wanting to talk about Murphy. "Maybe with the bridge gone, this will be our second chance. All our second chance."

"Since when are you a dreamer?" she asked with a small smile.

"Since a little blonde girl looked into my eyes and decided that I was worth something."

-The 100—

The next day, when he was feeling stronger, Bellamy and Murphy escorted Murphy a few miles from camp. Tossing down a bag for water and a few rations, Bellamy stared down Murphy. "Don't come back. I will kill you if I see you again, for any reason."

Murphy's glare was so full of anger and hatred and an impotent desire for revenge that Bellamy knew he was doing the right thing.

-The 100—

"You're outside of the wall without a gun," Bellamy said softly, his tone managing to be chiding without being accusing. The sun was setting on another day, a day without sign of the grounders. Clarke was standing over the three freshly drug graves, bringing their total dead to eighteen.

"We need to talk about Murphy," she said quietly. She'd wanted to give him a second chance, believe that he'd changed, but her fevered dreams had left her with a sense of dread whenever she looked at him.

"He's gone." Clarke looked at him quietly. "It's for the best."

Clarke nodded. "When do we send the teams out for the supplies Raven found?

"Tomorrow."

Clarke nodded, smiling in relief. "We should talk about Quantico," she said softly.

Bellamy had been reluctant to agree to finding a new home, he felt like they'd built something there and wanted to stay, wanted to stand his ground. Clarke understood it, but knew that they couldn't. Finding a home to call their own, a safe haven away from the threat the Grounders posed, was in their best interests.

"And we will, but we have some time. Octavia said the Grounders won't attack for awhile, something about the Mountain Men coming. We took out too many of their warriors on the bridge. Besides we'd never make it now." He wrapped his arm around her, feeling her lean against him almost instantly. "We're too weak, we'd lose more people to the trip than we did to sickness."

Clarke nodded and hoped that they would have enough time to regain their strength and withdraw to a new location, a safer location.

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Words 3432

Note- the death count in this story is different from the show.

I didn't really intend to take away Jasper and Monty's moment, but I wanted to do it differently than the show had (including making blowing up the bridge actually likely and probably effective—ie blowing up the footings and making it be a bridge over a steep ravine.) Having Clarke and Bellamy be separated also adds to the drama for me, because nothing is more scary than when you're separated from the people you love when bad things are happening.


	11. Chapter 11

_I had Clarke's segment of the last two chapters written for weeks now, but I added in Bellamy's and the rest to fill in the other side._

* * *

**Chapter 11**

After weeks of a cold icy winter, followed by escalating violence with the Grounders, and the illness they'd sent, the few weeks of relative peace and warmth that came after took on a surreal feeling. The snow was finally, mostly, gone, patches only remained in places where the sun didn't reach and they hadn't seen the Grounders since they set off Raven's bomb.

Life returned to what had become their normal- gathering water and food, standing defensively along the wall, fortifying their shelters, and honing their skills.

Clarke was out on what had become a nearly daily outing. Their food stores were low, so everyone was assigned to the food team, and did at least one hunting and gathering outing a day in addition to their other responsibilities. Bellamy had excluded Clarke from that of course, since her skills were better used in camp, but with so many of them in the forest, there was no safer time for her to gather more medicinal plants.

In addition, their territory marking had seemed to work with no encounters with Grounders in The 100's marked territory since winter had ended.

They'd learned, and had learned to make do with what was available. The books they'd found had helped, as had Monty's lessons, so more of them could spot edible and medicinal plants. Tree sap for small sutures and adhesive. Purple sumac as a calming sedative. Staghorn sumac is an antioxidant to aid healing when people had the flu. Sap from White Burch and Sugar Maple trees to supplement their calorie intake. Pine tar to adhere stone points to knife, spears and arrow shafts. Rope from Basswood tree fibers. A vitamin C rich tea from Pine needles to shore up immunity. Candles from Pine resin. Tannic acid extracted from boiling acorns which was good for use as an antibacterial.

As spring got more of a foothold more food would become available, but times were lean and meals were barely enough to survive on. But they'd all grown up with perpetual food shortages, and once they'd adjusted to sleeping longer and being up and active during only daylight hours during winter's short day cycle, (except the guards) they'd found an equilibrium.

They'd survived, forged a new society without assistance from the Ark. It had been months since their last communication from space, and they had been sporadic at best before that. Raven swore that the radio she'd built worked, and that the problem was on the other end. That terrified Clarke. Jaha wasn't one to delay his plans without good reason, so the lack of additional drop ships coming down to the surface meant that things had gone horribly wrong on the Ark. They had to assume that they were all dead or unable to use the drop ships and therefore would be dead sooner rather than later. She had to assume her mother was dead. They had to proceed as if no help was coming. As if they were the last of the human generations born in space.

Clarke tried to convince herself that they could make it. They had each other. Shelter. Food. Improving Earth skills. And they had seven months until winter came again. Unless they decided to move, travel south where the winters would be milder. And that seemed more and more likely, despite Bellamy's desire to stay in the camp they'd made. They knew the area they'd landed in, what had once been Virginia, one of the United States. They knew the terrain, the plants, the food and water sources, none of them were eager to start over somewhere new.

Their camp had become 'home' with the Ark becoming the place they'd come from. Their past. But if they could find a safe (safer) place to go, somewhere without Grounder's threatening their every move, someplace with abundant food, and no higher radiation levels than their current camp, the consensus was that they go. Raven and Monty were still working on getting the Geiger counters they'd found at Ft. Detrick to work.

Clarke was walking through an open field with several others, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. The peaceful moment was interrupted by the ground seemingly beginning to vibrate. They all stopped, looking around warily. "What now?" Clarke asked in trepidation, knees bent, prepared to run or duck.

Suddenly hundreds of deer-like animals burst into the field, running straight for the teenagers. Light brown bodies with darker brown and white faces and thick, short horns, the animals made up a wall that would flatten the humans in their path.

"Run!" Clarke shouted and the teens didn't wait to be told twice, they took off in all directions running as fast as they could, trying to make it to the tree line where they might find some protection from the stampede.

Clarke ran along with the rest of them, dodging animals and darting towards a large tree stump that she hoped she could climb atop of. She didn't make it. One of the animals hit her, knocking her to the side where another bumped into her, spinning her off her feet. She tried to get up, but saw that she was in the thick of the herd now with no hope of getting out until they passed her by. Ducking down into a ball, she curled her arms over her head in an attempt to protect herself.

One after another of the animals hit her, legs and hoofs bruising her and keeping her down. When it finally ended, Clarke staggered to her feet to see that she was alone. She called out but heard no reply.

Stumbling in the direction she thought camp laid, she wandered into the forest, pressing a hand to her head where a large bump and a thick pour of blood let her know she hadn't been very successful in protecting her head after all.

-The 100—

More than an hour later the first of Clarke's group stumbled back into camp. Bellamy listened to their story with growing rage. "So you just ran and left our people behind?" Bellamy shouted.

"What did you want us to do?" one of the male delinquents who had problems controlling his temper asked belligerently.

"I would have wanted you to go back to look for other injured people. I would have wanted you to realize that we don't leave people behind."

"We were injured!" the boy argued.

Bellamy got in his face. "And who do you think gives a fuck? Nobody. The same nobody who will be treating your injuries because you left our only trained medic behind!" he raged.

"Just because you're fuc-"

Miller stepped forward and tossed an elbow in the boy's face in a quick almost casual move, sending him to the ground and shutting him up before Bellamy decided that beating him into unconsciousness would help resolve his feelings of rage, impotence, and fear. "We need to focus. Bellamy, you're taking out a search crew?"

Bellamy nodded, his eyes still burning with rage and fear. He turned away, shouting for Finn, Jones, Jasper, Monroe and a few others to get their guns and packs, while Miller got Raven and one of the younger girls who had been helping Clarke in med bay to triage the injured. "Monty is due back anytime now, and between the three of you, you need to deal with as many injuries as you can. Clarke is at least two hours out."

"What about Octavia?" one of the injured girls asked shakily, getting to her feet with the help of two others.

"Octavia is going to be out of camp too," Miller said, not offering any explanation.

-The 100-

Coming to a small ditch, Clarke looked around, turning in a circle to try to find a familiar landmark, but the forest spun around her. Her feet slipped as she stepped too far down the incline, the leaf litter making the ground slippery. She imagined pitching head over heels down to the bottom, but instead she slipped on her side, mud caking her pants and jacket.

At the bottom she took a few deep breaths and tried to assess her injuries. Her calf burned, but she was fairly certain it was just a really bad bruise. Her back and elbows ached as well. Her ribs were a bit more concerning, but since they just ached instead of sending shooting pains into her body, she assumed they were also just bruised and not broken. Her main concern was that she was dizzy and disoriented, and now she was also wet and muddy. Without any idea where she was, she knew she needed to find shelter, get warm, stay put until someone found her or her head stopped spinning.

Sitting up gingerly, she slowly got to her feet, both hands grabbing at her head as if it would help to steady her balance. Staggering down to the creek bed that ran along the bottom of the small riparian ravine she'd slid into Clarke moved slowly downstream, hoping that she'd find a patch of late afternoon sun, or a hollowed out tree where she could take cover.

-The 100-

Bellamy's search team arrived at the field where Clarke and the others had been caught in the stampede, but didn't find her. They'd come across two other injured and lost teens along the way, and sent them back with an armed guard.

Bellamy looked at the churned up dirt, imagining in his mind how many animals moving at speed would be required to tear up the grass like that, and what Clarke must have felt in the moment. "Finn," he barked. "Start tracking her."

"I'm trying," Finn replied tightly. "It's not that easy." He had to find where she exited the field as his starting point, but with twelve kids caught in the crush he had to figure out which way she had gone as opposed to the others.

"Good news is if we can track the animals, we can eat well for awhile," one of the team muttered softly, not wanting to draw Bellamy's anger.

They remained mostly silent as they followed one after another of the trails Finn found leading out of the field, disappointment and fear growing as the trails yielded no sign or sight of Clarke.

-The 100—

At Lincoln's cave, Octavia waited anxiously, pacing the surprisingly large space, popping out the hidden entrance every 15 minutes or so, craning her head to see if she could spot Lincoln in the distance. She knew he didn't always stay in the cave, that he had a home and family elsewhere, not that he'd ever told her where. Just that he had a brother and his mother was still alive. The way he'd said it made it clear that Grounders didn't live long lives. But then neither did the people on the Ark, so Octavia hadn't put much thought into it.

-The 100-

Clarke had been in the creek bed for maybe an hour when a wall of sound and movement came at her and Clarke darted to the side, only to see that this time the animals running past were wild turkeys. Gauging their speed she pulled out her knife and threw it, smiling incredulously as one of the flightless birds fell to the ground with a loud squawk.

Carrying the turkey by its neck, Clarke looked around, hoping for anything familiar. She'd hoped the creek would have led to a larger river she would recognize, but so far it hadn't. She didn't want to have to hole up in the forest overnight, but she knew it was fast becoming her only option. She had no idea how long she'd been walking, but the sun seemed lower in the sky. Too low. She was running out of time before nightfall and the temperature drop.

She thought she heard something behind her and transferring the turkey to her left hand she pulled out her knife with her right, turning quickly only to groan as her head ached from the sudden move. She looked for someone or something, but saw nothing. Nor did she hear anything. And she thought, forcing herself to consider the bright side, her head had stopped spinning and now only hurt like the worst hangover ever.

Turning back around, a wiry smile on her face, determined to at least continue in the straight line she'd committed to, she found a Grounder standing 20 feet from her. Clarke stared for only a second, long enough to recognize him as the grounder Octavia had befriended, Lincoln. She drew in a deep breath and turned to run, but another Grounder had dropped in behind her. She spun back around, fear clearly written on her face.

Lincoln approached and she backed away, towards the embankment that she had no hope of climbing. There was no escape.

As they closed in on her, Clarke assessed her chances. Two grounders, one of which was Lincoln. She wouldn't be able to kill them both, and she didn't particularly want to kill Lincoln, and if she killed his friend, he might kill her for the offense. Either way she ended up dead. Bellamy wouldn't agree, but sometimes not fighting was the best chance for survival.

Making herself as small as possible, she dropped to her haunches and hugged her knees, looking up at them with her wide, pale blue eyes. She didn't really have a desire to see how she was going to die, but neither would she look away, she just hoped it was quick. When the pain didn't come, she relaxed slightly looking up at Lincoln standing over her, noticing that the other grounder nowhere to be seen.

He stared at her steadily, and Clarke managed to drag up enough courage to meet his gaze. Every time she looked in his eyes she saw his pained but stoic expression as Bellamy tortured him. Tortured him with Clarke's approval. "Get up," he commanded in a rough voice. Clarke gaped at him. "Up. Now." When she failed to respond he reached for her but she cowered back. Lincoln stepped back, studying her carefully. "Octavia said you heal people. You're their healer."

Clarke regarded him warily, rising to her feet. "I do my best."

He seemed to consider her words. "You owe me, and I'm calling in the debt."

Clarke frowned, failing to avoid his hand that clamped down on her shoulder drawing her forward. He easily took the knife from her, studying it for a moment before slipping it into one of his pants pockets. "You're injured."

"I… I was run over. By a herd of…"

"Antelope."

"Antelope?" she questioned, not remembering any of the books they had read telling them that antelope occupied this part of the country.

He didn't bother to respond, just lead her out of the creek bed and into the forest again. She tried to stop to pick up her turkey, but he pulled her along. "Nice kill, you might survive yet."

They walked silently for some time, and Clarke had no better idea of where they were than she had before. "Where are you taking me? Is this the way to our camp?"

"You owe me," he repeated and she knew that she did. But that didn't mean she was keen to pay the debt on her own.

"They'll be looking for me," she said, trying to make him see that letting her go was his best option.

"You walked the wrong way," he said, pushing her blood matted hair off her forehead to reveal her head wound. "You crossed our boundary some time ago."

"We don't know where your boundaries are, if we did-," she started, but he pulled her forward, up a small rise, making her scramble to keep her feet under her. She never got the chance to finish her sentence. Before her was a hive of activity, hundreds, maybe a thousand people and what looked like tee-pees from the days when native people occupied the land to the west of them. There were also other buildings, made from tree branches, mud and rock, not too dissimilar from those they'd built. The town, because she didn't know what else to call it, was full of people, chickens, and other livestock.

-The 100-

As night was falling, Bellamy's group returned to camp, tired but carrying two antelope with them. Bellamy rushed ahead, hoping against hope that Clarke had managed to get herself back to camp safely. The serious expression on Miller's face put paid to that thought.

Bellamy quickly grabbed some rations and extra water, before putting on another layer of clothing before marching towards the fence again. He found Miller and Monroe waiting for him. "Get out of my way."

"We're not here to stop you," Miller said, his tone placating.

"We're coming with you," Raven declared, coming up behind Bellamy with her pack on her back, jacket zipped up against the chill and a scarf wrapped around her neck.

"You can't the camp needs you-" Bellamy said.

"The camp needs you and Clarke, so let's get her back. Now are we going or are we going to stand around and braid each other's hair?" Raven sassed, pushing past him.

"What she said," Monroe said quietly, falling in step behind Raven.

"Jones and Finn are in charge while we're gone," Miller said, easing Bellamy's concerns. "And guard duty is covered."

Bellamy nodded, then swept out the gate. Miller followed him, glad that he was so distracted by Clarke's disappearance that he hadn't asked where Octavia was.

-The 100-

* * *

It's always exciting to post chapters that have been written and waiting for weeks while the rest of the story takes shape.

Words 2971


	12. Chapter 12

_Well, this is it, the end. I've enjoyed writing a story for these characters and getting to explore them in a different character ark than the show. (no pun intended). Thanks for coming along for the ride. If you liked it, please review, otherwise how would I know? _

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**Chapter 12**

"Wait here. If you move, you will be killed. Do you understand?" Lincoln said, looking down at Clarke as they stood on the rise above his village.

She nodded. "I understand." Clarke was tired, bruised, battered, and hungry, but none of that stopped her eyes from feasting at the sight before her. A Grounder village, large and teeming with people, animals, and life.

He pushed her down to the ground between a large rock and a tree, hiding her from any curious eyes before striding into the village. He returned a few minutes later holding a large animal skin which he draped around her, hiding her hair and clothing completely. "Keep your head down, and don't speak. Stay with me."

She nodded and did as he said, trialing his steps closely as he wound through the village until they were surrounded by the portable animal hide dwellings. He seemed to be heading to one teepee in particular, and Clarke's heart kicked up to an even faster beat. She could feel her breath start coming in pants, and knew that she was panicking. She forced herself to push down the fear and focus on the details. Maybe knowing how they lived would help The 100 survive or relate to the Grounders. If she made it back to them, to Bellamy, alive.

Lincoln lifted the flap on one of the teepees, larger than most of the others, and grabbing Clarke's arm, shoved her inside. The heat hit her like a wave and she stumbled, landing on her knees, the animal skin he'd used to conceal her falling from her shoulders.

"Lincoln!" came a sharp report. Clarke jerked her head towards the sound, seeing an older woman, kneeling by a young woman who was obviously in the process of giving birth.

"You brought a Moonwalker?" the younger woman growled. "Now?"

Clarke looked to Lincoln, not sure she should speak. "She is their healer. She can help."

Clarke frowned, realizing that the birth was not going well. The older woman's eyes sharpened as she rose to her feet and approached the dirty and bloody teen kneeling at her son's feet. "You have birthed babies?"

"I… I have watched my mother deliver several. I might be able to help. I'd like to try," Clarke offered. "I'll need to wash my hands and if you have any disinfectant…"

The woman waived towards a wash bin behind her and Clarke looked to Lincoln who nodded, before she stood up on shaky feet. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail with a leather string, she took off her jacket and pushed up her shirt sleeves before washing her hands and arms thoroughly. As she was finishing the younger woman let out another anguished cry.

Clarke walked towards her then kneeled between her parted legs, seeing a small amount of blood, but nothing to be too worried about. "May I?" she asked, not wanting to overstep her welcome. The woman looked frightened, but nodded. "I'm Clarke, and I'm going to check on the position of your baby."

"I'm… Zora," the woman panted against the pain. She had long olive toned skin, dark curling hair and an angular face that would be beautiful if it weren't contorted with pain.

The older woman took Zora's hand and watched Clarke with hawk-like intensity. "How long has she been in labor?"

"Since yesterday morning," Lincoln answered.

"And she's fully effaced?"

The older woman's eyes darted side to side, clearly not understanding Clarke. "She's ready to push," Clarke tried again.

"Yes, she is ready, the contractions are strong, but the baby does not come."

Clarke nodded, pressing her hands to Zora's stomach, trying to guage the position of the baby. "I think the baby might be breach, turned around." The older woman nodded, having already determined as much. "I can try to turn it," Clarke offered, looking at Zora for permission.

"Save my baby," she moaned desperately.

Clarke nodded and took a deep breath blowing it out slowly before she reached in and felt the baby's bottom and legs instead of its head. The old woman looked alarmed but didn't try to interfere. "Definitely breach," Clarke said. "I'm sorry, this might hurt."

"Just do it," Zora rasped.

Clarke pushed, trying to get some room to reposition the baby, and with her other hand on the outside of Zora's distended stomach, pushed and maneuvered until the baby was head down. Zora screamed as Clarke tried to turn the baby so he was face up, but as Clarke turned him as delicately as possible, she felt the cord. "Wait, don't push, I think the cord is wrapped around his neck."

Zora began to cry and Lincoln dropped to his knees beside her, taking her other hand. Clarke's fingers slid over the slippery shoulder and head of the baby, knowing they needed to get him out as quickly as possible at that point. First the distress of being breach, and she had no idea how long the cord had been wrapped around his neck. A few seconds more and she had the cord off, at least she hoped she did.

"Push, you can push now."

Zora screamed and levered her body up with her next contraction, pushing as hard as she could. A few contractions later, Clarke could see the baby's head. "He's coming, another good push, you're doing great."

When the baby finally slid out, Clarke caught him in her hands, happy to see that he was in fact a boy, but she didn't hesitate, rubbing two knuckles over his chest firmly, trying to get the little red-purple baby to take his first breaths. "Breath," she whispered.

"My baby?"

Clarke smiled tremulously as a small wail filled the tent. She swiped the cloth the older woman handed her over the baby, clearing away some of the mess, then handed him to Zora, watching with awe as she held her child for the first time. Clarke sat back, pushing away from the new family, not wanting to intrude and Lincoln laid a hand on her shoulder, giving her another of his unreadable looks, but she hoped this one at least was not threatening.

-The 100-

Clarke had just accepted a container of water from the old woman, when another man, just as large as Lincoln and bearing a strong family resemblance, burst into the tent. "Zora?"

"We have a son," she said proudly, cradling the small baby to her breast.

The newcomer's gaze swept the tent and landing on Clarke he roared and leapt towards her. Fisting his hand in her hair and dragging her up to her knees. Clarke's heart stuttered, then raced as she grappled with his hand, trying to free herself. Then Lincoln and the older woman were shouting and standing between Clarke and her attacker, Lincoln's hand wrapped around the other man's wrist tightly.

"Jefferson," Lincoln said firmly, holding a knife to his brother's side with his other hand. "Release her."

"You brought her here?"

"She saved our baby, Jeff, she saved Washington," Zora said firmly. "Is this how you repay the woman who delivered your son?"

Jefferson backed off and Clarke fell back to the ground, exhausted. The older woman, their mother, she realized, helped her sit on a pile of soft furs, handing her another cup of water. Then she pinched Clarke's side. "Too thin," she judged as Clarke flinched away. "Get her food." She turned a no nonsense glare on her sons. "Now."

-The 100—

"Thank you for the food, it was amazing. Really, maybe the best I've ever tasted," Clarke said honestly. "But I have to go, my people will be looking for me. They'll be worried."

"You are too tired to travel. And you can't leave here during the day, you will be seen," the old woman, Hillary, Clarke now knew, decreed. "You will stay, eat, rest. Then Lincoln will take you back."

Clarke frowned, knowing that Bellamy would be worried, but not seeing that she had much of a choice.

After eating another bowl of food, flavored meats and some type of grain, Clarke settled back on the furs.

"Thank you for what you did," Zora said quietly, not wanting to disturb her sleeping child or husband.

"I don't need thanks, I was happy to help," Clarke said.

"Did you truly come from the moon?"

Clarke started. "No, we came from space. Close to the moon." She could see her words had no meaning for Zora. "Our ancestors were on space stations, exploring the skies when the war happened. I grew up in a… space station… a floating city, up there. Between the Earth and the Moon."

"Why have you returned?"

Clarke hesitated, the first question had seemed to stem from honest curiosity, but this seemed more pointed. "There aren't enough resources for all of us. We came so we could live."

"You can't go back?"

"No, there is no going back," Clarke agreed.

"They sent you alone? But you are hardly more than children," Zora wondered. Clarke remained silent, not wanting to say that their own people had deemed them to be expendable. "My sister Anya, is our village's leader. Our people are not happy with your presence. You… have caused us problems."

"We don't mean to, we didn't know there were any survivors on the ground. And we didn't know about your boundaries. We still don't, we can only guess, unless you tell us," Clarke said softly, hoping to have found an ally. "We didn't even know you spoke English until-"

"Until Lincoln became friends with the foolish girl," Zora completed. She looked Clarke over carefully. "I owe you a blood debt," she said resolutely.

"You don't owe me," Clarke denied again. "I was happy to help."

Zora's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Sleep now, no harm will come to you."

-The 100—

The next morning Bellamy returned to camp, Raven, Miller and Monroe following quietly behind him. They'd found no sign of Clarke.

Bellamy barreled into camp, going on 36 hours without sleep, but heading to the dorm room Octavia slept in instead of his own.

"Octavia, get up!" he called harshly.

"Bellamy," she said sleepily, before sitting up suddenly. "Did you find-"

"I need you to take me to your Grounder. Now!" he ordered exiting her room without waiting for an answer.

A few minutes later, Octavia exited the dorm. "I already tried to find Lincoln to see if he knew anything, he wasn't there."

Bellamy's jaw tightened at the news that Octavia continued to leave camp alone. "Then we'll wait him out."

Her chin stuck out stubbornly. "I'll go. I'll wait until he comes, but I'm taking Finn, not you."

"Clarke is my-" he roared, standing over her as if he could frighten her into compliance.

"And Lincoln is mine. I won't let you hurt him, and I don't want him to hurt you. Take it or leave it, Bell."

-The 100-

It was a long walk back to The 100's camp, and seemed even longer when Lincoln blindfolded Clarke for part of the trip so she couldn't find her way back. She wasn't stupid enough to tell him that she had seen enough of the landscape around their village to narrow down its likely location on their maps.

When Clarke paused to drink from the container they'd given her and eat some of the food she'd been sent away with, she caught Lincoln's gaze on her again. He seemed to want to ask her something. "Octavia is alright. I've been teaching her what I know about healing." He froze then looked away deliberately. "I think she still misses you. She knows she messed up. She's young, and-"

"She would have gotten herself killed if I'd let her keep coming. She has no sense."

Clarke smiled ruefully and packed away her meal. "That's what Bellamy, her brother, says."

"Your mate," Lincoln said, revealing that the Grounders were still watching their camp even if they'd stopped actively hunting the "Moonwalkers" during the cold winter months.

"He… I…" Lincoln arched one sardonic eyebrow at her flush. "If you would tell us where your boundaries are, maybe we could stop crossing them and risking a war," she said forcefully.

"It would not be a war. If we wanted you dead, you would be dead," he said flatly. "We have tried to teach you."

"Teach us with words, with knowledge, not with fear and terror," she countered.

Lincoln regarded her silently then pulled her up off the rock she had sat on to eat. "We are not far now."

Clarke wrapped the fur she'd been given over her shoulders more firmly and walked along with him. If they weren't enemies, and Lincoln hadn't had a relationship with Octavia, Clarke could see that Lincoln and Bellamy would be friends. They had quite a bit in common.

Clarke adjusted the bandage on her hand, remembering how Zora had grasped her hand and cut a 'Z' shallowly into her palm, then Clarke's and clasped their hands tightly. "You have my blood bond and oath."

Clarke didn't know what that meant, but nodded, assuming that asking or rejecting what felt like an important gesture would not be helpful. "And you have my friendship, if ever…"

Zora nodded and took her child from her husband, handing him to Clarke to say goodbye. Clarke nuzzled his head, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, letting him grasp her finger with his tiny hand. Kissing his temple quickly she handed him back. "If we meet again, we will not be enemies."

-The 100—

In the 100's camp everyone was trying to steer clear of Bellamy who was more frazzled than they had ever seen him. It wasn't a secret that he and Clarke were together or that they truly cared about each other, but to see him fall apart as the hours of her absence wore on was unnerving. The campers kept any problems quiet and took only the ones needing immediate attention to Miller or Raven- depending on the issue.

-The 100-

As they neared the camp, Clarke was amazed and horrified by how easily Lincoln led her to within 30 feet of the gate without being seen. The camp was a hive of activity already, the sun having risen a few hours prior. "Lincoln," Clarke said, wanting to thank him or something, but shouting from the guard towers drew her attention towards camp.

In seconds they were surrounded by guards, and Lincoln drew his spear, pulling Clarke into his chest, using her as a human shield.

"Stop, Miller, stop, he isn't a threat," Clarke said in a mostly steady voice.

"He's a fucking Grounder," Miller spat.

"And to him, we're fucking Moonwalkers who don't learn quickly, put down the guns," she commanded, her words baffling enough that he actually lowered the rifle from his shoulder, just as Bellamy burst through the gate, Raven right behind him.

Clarke felt Lincoln tense and squeezed his arm. "Lincoln," she cautioned, her tone begging for him to be calm.

"Clarke!" Bellamy shouted, a gun to his shoulder as he rushed towards her.

"I'm OK, Bell, I promise. He didn't hurt me. He found me, injured, and brought me back," she said, leaving the larger part of the story for a time when guns weren't drawn. "Tell them to put down the guns. We don't repay kindness with violence."

She could tell that Bellamy was torn, but as Raven tried to move past him not willing to wait for the Grounder to release Clarke, he was still focused enough to jab out an arm and latch onto her jacket, hauling her back. "Stay back," he growled.

"Do as he says, I have brought your leader home, and do not desire any conflict" Lincoln said and the shockwave from hearing a Grounder speak English washed over the assembled 100. Only a few of them had been at the botched peace treaty meeting, and many of them still had a hard time believing that the grounders shared their language, seeing them as little more than mindless savages.

"Let her go," Bellamy bellowed.

"Not until you promise me you won't shoot him. Or try to capture him," Clarke argued. She could see his frustration. "He's not our enemy. They don't have to be our enemies," she said in a softer voice, trying to get Bellamy to use reason, to see past his fear and distrust.

Their eyes caught, clashed. He didn't agree, the battle for survival had winners and losers. He intended for them to be the winner. Clarke thought there could be multiple winners.

"Miller," he growled. "Be ready, but don't shoot unless he hurts her. Got it?"

"Yeah," Miller agreed, raising his gun back to his shoulder and stepping off to the side so he had a clear shot.

"Everyone else, get inside. Now." The guards filtered through the gate, ignoring Bellamy when he nodded towards the headstrong engineer. Bellamy was frightening, but Raven was more likely to actually punch one of them. And from the glare she was issuing them, she would not take kindly to being taken back into camp against her will.

Then it was just the five of them. Bellamy lowered his rifle and walked towards where the Grounder, whose face he'd come to dread seeing or remembering, held Clarke. "You're free to go," he said, reaching out towards Clarke.

Slowly Lincoln loosened his hold on her and stepped back. Clarke walked into Bellamy's arms, sighing in relief as one wrapped around her, holding her tightly. Lincoln laid down a bundle he'd carried with them from his village, and backed away. "A gift, given in gratitude."

"Thank you," Clarke replied, twisting so she could see him as he melted into the forest.

"Wait," Bellamy called, still holding Clarke firmly to his chest. "Octavia is at your cave, I told her to wait until you returned."

"I will release her from her duty," Lincoln said with a nod.

-The 100—

Bellamy wasn't sure he'd ever been happier to hear the gate shut behind him as he, Clarke, Miller and Raven came back into camp, protected by the fence. Bellamy led Clarke straight to the drop ship, boosting her up to sit on the metal table where she usually treated patients. Monty and Raven bustled around, getting the supplies needed to clean up Clarke's various cuts, the most serious the one over her forehead.

She'd cleaned up in the Grounder's village and attempted to tell Bellamy and the rest that it could wait until morning, but was overruled. "You'd never let any of us get away with that, Clarke," Monty admonished quietly, his voice so different from Bellamy and Raven's strident tones that it cut through her stubborn resistance.

As they treated her injuries, Clarke tried to tell them where she'd been and what had happened, but was mostly ignored. "There are thousands of them. It's a big village, probably three miles from Mt. Weather-"

"Do you think it needs stitches?" Monty asked Raven, peering closely at the cut on Clarke's forehead, just below her hairline.

"They live primarily in tee-pees, made from large animal hides..."

"I'm not sure," Raven said, uncharacteristically uncertain.

"... We should ask Lincoln what type of animal it is..."

"Where's Octavia anyway, she's the best at sutures," Raven muttered.

"...and when it's in this area, since we haven't seen anything that-"

"Let me see it," Bellamy said, stepping forward only to be treated to a large sigh as Clarke gave up trying to convey actual helpful information when they were obviously not listening to her.

"It probably could have used one or two stitches, but it's closed already. Just look for infection. Is it red-"

"I know what infection looks like, Princess," Bellamy said tightly, his large hands cupping her face and angling her head one way then another to see it fully in the limited lantern light.

"It looks good, considering," Raven said, her anxiety level dropping back.

"Could use some seaweed, just to be sure," Monty offered.

"Do it," Bellamy ordered.

Clarke's eyes met his. "I'm fine. I promise. The antelope hurt me, not Lincoln or any of the other Grounders."

Bellamy's expression was tight, the muscle in his jaw visibly clenched. "Soon you'll sound like Octavia, swearing that he's our friend."

"I wouldn't go that far, but they don't have to be our enemies."

Their gazes held, clashed. Monty ignored them and went about cleaning the cuts on Clarke's hands with moonshine. Bellamy pulled off her jacket, inspecting her bruised arms as he went and therefore missing her flinch as she twisted to ease the jacket off her shoulders.

"They tried to take you once before, now they know for sure how valuable you can be to them, and you think today was a positive development?"

"They already knew-"

"More positive than her ending up lost for days or dead," Raven cut in. "Maybe you two can argue later once we get Clarke's ribs wrapped."

Bellamy scowled, an expression that would have been intimidating to most anyone else, but not to the three who were with him. "What's wrong with her ribs?" he growled, his dark gaze swinging to Raven.

"They're just bruised," Clarke said, quietly submitting to their concerned care.

Once she was all clean and wrapped up, 'like a mummy' she complained, Bellamy seemed more calm and satisfied.

As he escorted her to their dorm, Miller approached, his ever present gun slung over his shoulder. "I'll let you know when Octavia returns," he said to Bellamy, giving Clarke a cautious smile.

"I'm fine."

"You should get some rest, Miller," Bellamy said, drawing a questioning look from Clarke. "He's been up and on the for 24 hours."

"I'll turn in once she's back," Miller said simply, turning back to the fence, not needing to say who she was.

-The 100-

Undressing for bed, Clarke once again tried to tell Bellamy more of what she'd seen, but he mostly grunted in response if he responded at all. Taking her hand and tugging her towards the bed, he crawled under the blankets and animal furs, pulling her close to his side and burying his face in her neck.

"Hey, I promise I'm alright," she said soothingly, stroking his shoulders and back reassuringly. Once his shoulders relaxed some, her mind went back to the long list of things she wanted to share with him. "They had bread, Bell. Real, baked bread."

"Sounds good, Princess, now get some sleep," he said, rolling onto his back and wrapping an arm around her waist as she automatically settled against his side, curling one of her legs over his.

"... horses and even a well for water. We should look into that, see if we can limit our time and effort spent on getting water..."

"Go to sleep, Clarke, we can talk tomorrow."

Clarke frowned, but finally she paused, really looking at him and seeing the lines of weariness and worry on his face even though he was already half asleep.

"OK," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest and settling down silently beside him.

She must have drifted off to sleep, because she had no idea how much time had passed when she was awaken by the sound of Miller clearing his throat outside the curtain that separated their room from the long main hallway. "You can come in Miller," Clarke called softly, seeing Bellamy blink his way to awareness, a scowl on his face.

"Octavia's ba-"

"I can tell them myself," Octavia said in a loud voice, poking her head inside her brother's room. "Glad that you're back, Clarke. Lincoln wanted me to tell you thanks, again. Bell, you're still an ass."

"Back at ya', sis," he grumbled, lifting his arm to cover his face and pulling Clarke closer.

Octavia rolled her eyes and stormed off.

"G'night, Miller," Clarke said quietly.

"You too. It's good to have you back," the soft spoken boy said before leaving them in darkness once again.

Settling back down against Bellamy's side, Clarke sighed as his hand stroked her back. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Hmm," he murmured, his hand sliding into her hair. "You seem to enjoy going out into the forest more than staying safe with me, so I'm not sure I can know that, Princess."

Her smiled as he felt her jaw drop, a sound of annoyance escaping her throat. "A guilt trip? Now? Really?"

"No guilt, just letting you know that if you want to show me how much you love me, you can stay in camp."

"And if I won't?"

Bellamy pressed a kiss to her forehead and settled back down, his body soft and warm with sleep. "Not seeing that you have a choice, Princess. I control the wall, and you're days of wandering around the forest are over. Completely," he paused to yawn, "over."

It was a familiar refrain, and one that Clarke didn't take seriously, though she knew he meant it. He'd be reasonable again in a few days once he'd gotten over his upset emotional response to her being hurt then taken.

"Octavia is right, you are an ass."

"But an ass who loves you."

"Still an ass," she muttered taking a deep breath then releasing it before closing her eyes and letting sleep come over her once again.

-The 100—

A week later Bellamy and Clarke were woken up by shouts from the guards, rushing to the gate, they saw Jefferson standing with a contingent of warriors at his back, three dead antelope on the ground before them.

His eyes searched the Moonwalkers for Clarke, easily finding her pale head among the others. Even among the Moonwalkers the blonde hair was uncommon. "My wife is healthy. She sends her thanks."

Clarke nodded, smiling. "Washington?"

A large grin split the grounder's face. "Growing. Thanks in part to you."

"I'm happy to hear it," she said.

"Thanks for the food," Octavia chimed in, looking disappointed not to see Lincoln in the lineup.

"You wished to know where our boundaries are. We have been authorized to negotiate. In two days time, Lincoln and I will return, if you wish to have peace with us, light a fire on the banks of the river where you first became aware of our existence. We will come to you the day after."

It wasn't much, but it was a beginning and it gave a chance at peace and staying in the camp, the home they'd built. Clarke had no doubt it would be difficult, to live with the Grounders, to convince The remaining 100 that peace with the Grounders was their best option. But it was a chance.

-The 100-

Understanding grew between the Grounders and The 100 as the weeks past. They seldom had direct contact with anyone not in Anya's inner circle or Lincoln's extended family, but there at least the relationships seemed to extend beyond politics. While the more suspicious minds like Bellamy and Miller's were withholding judgment, according to the Grounders, there were other threats that The 100 knew nothing about due to living inside the Grounders territory and enjoying the protections of their treaties and strength.

Which was another argument for staying in the camp they'd made and lived in for the last eight months. The radiation levels at Quantico were higher than their current camp, and the camp was in full debate on whether Grounders or radiation posed a greater long term danger.

While Lincoln and Anya were reluctant to impart too much knowledge on The 100, Zora was less circumspect. Reapers were a threat to all of them, with their nomadic cannibalistic ways. But according to Zora the real threat was the Mountain Men. Clarke was shocked to learn that the Grounders didn't control Mt. Weather, that some other group did, someone with modern weapons, vehicles and suits.

"They steal our women, we never see them again." Clarke frowned, her mind conjuring up terrible possibilities even as she assimilated that the Mountain Men could do the same to The 100. "They only emerged from their mountain some 20 years past. We have so few women of our own..." she mused, "marriage contracts are more often than naught a deal between families, not based on love."

Clarke remained silent, remembering the young pregnant Grounder in the forest. "You disagree," Zora said, reading into Clarke's silence. "It is in our best, long term interest to breed the strongest males to the females we have left."

"But you love Jefferson," Clarke protested.

"Yes, I was lucky."

Clarke listened and learned and offered her medical help, hoping that what was offered freely would curb any attempts to take her into the Grounder village to live among them and serve as their healer. Bellamy was less than pleased when Grounders began showing up with ill children at their fence regularly, and Clarke worked to negotiate a regular periodic clinic at the Grounder village to reduce possible altercations with the tempestuous teens and the imperious Grounders.

Without medical equipment, Clarke had no way of knowing why the Grounder's birth rate for girl babies was so low, but she told Zora how the Grounders could try to conceive more girls, using ovulation cycles to time conception.

"I would like to have a girl," Zora said with a smile. "What about you Clarke? You have found your mate, when will you have a family?"

Clarke blanched, not yet ready to consider anything along those lines, no matter how she felt about Bellamy. "I... I don't... We… no…. We haven't talked about that..."

Zora laughed as Clarke stuttered, unable to formulate a response. Clarke's blush deepened as Bellamy ducked into the tee-pee. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Clarke said with relief, jumping to her feet.

"Zora," Bellamy greeted with stiff politeness.

"Bellamy," Zora said, her eyes laughing.

Bellamy's gaze narrowed, but he held out a hand to Clarke, escorting her out of the shelter and then out of the village, Lincoln and Octavia trailing behind them. "What was that about?" he questioned.

"Nothing."

He slanted a dark suspicious look at Clarke's face, her cheeks still pink. "Nothing."

"Yep." Suddenly she smiled, clearly finding enjoyment in his confusion. "I might tell you in another few years."

He arched one eyebrow, but it only made her laugh, so he let it go. Once they exited the camp and were in the relative safety of the forest, he took Clarke's hand in his, feeling the quiet satisfaction as she slid her fingers between his, holding on to his larger, rougher palm.

Behind them Octavia laughed, and Bellamy let himself enjoy the sound, one so seldom heard for so many years. "Bellamy and Clarke, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…" she sang. He regretted ever teaching her the childhood taunt, but found that now that they were on the ground, sitting in a tree kissing Clarke didn't seem like such a bad idea. If Clarke's smirk was any indication she was also open to a literal response to Octavia's teasing, little did he know how apropos Octavia's words were in relation to their earlier conversation.

Clarke laughed as Octavia continued. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage."

"Don't encourage her," Bellamy said with a faux scowl at Clarke before turning the dark look on his sister, looking over his shoulder to see that Lincoln was as unimpressed as he was with the girls' amusement.

"I don't know about in a tree… but under a tree…" Clarke teased.

Suddenly Octavia was grabbing his elbow, looking up at him with her hazel eyes, her excitement palatable. "We should build a swing!"

"A swing?"

"From a tree, like those old pictures."

"A swing. Absolutely," Clarke agreed.

Bellamy just looked from one girl to the other, shaking his head in resignation. "Make me some rope, I'll make you your damn swing."

Octavia smiled widely before twirling away, Lincoln staying close to her, and Clarke squeezed his hand.

Life on Earth wasn't what he'd thought, and in no way did he think it would all be walks in the forest and swings, but it could be worse.

* * *

_Words 5338_

_This chapter kept growing and growing as I added in the last bit, and the reunion between Clarke/Bellamy and the camp._

_I'm pretty happy with this story, I hope you enjoyed it too. Now we all have to wait until Oct for Season 2 to debut._


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